


A Heedless Plan

by SweeTarts151



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, F/F, Gen, Slow Burn, The romance comes much later
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-29
Updated: 2019-09-07
Packaged: 2019-10-19 01:24:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 23,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17592059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SweeTarts151/pseuds/SweeTarts151
Summary: Heedless- showing a reckless lack of care or attention.They sent them to Earth when they were little more than children, unprepared for Earth and the death it would bring. For the tolls it would take and the traits it would brings forward and mold them into the people that may very well save the Ark as well as those on the ground.An advanced timeline; i.e what if everything happened three years earlier, what would change? How would the ground mold The Hundred into who they are and how will the Ark deal with its decision to send children to earth?





	1. Chapter 1

Jake Griffin locks the door to their housing unit, pulling his wife to the couch. "Abby, we have four, maybe five years before the oxygen system is compromised."

The councilor badge gleams against her shirt and she stares up at him with wide eyes. "When did you discover this?"

"I was going over schematics a few days ago." He runs his hand through his hair, eyes wide. "Sinclair mentioned oxygen loss and I went from there. Abby, if we don't get the people focused on this we could all die."

"We bring it to the council." And she lifts her chin, meets her husbands eye like she has all the answers. "Engineers and mechanics will get on it."

He shakes his head, hand moving to grab her elbow and squeeze it gently, seeking something. "The people have a right to know that in five years they could all die."

"It will cause a mass panic Jake." Abby grips his wrist, pulls it from her elbow to cradle his hand in hers, meeting his too earnest eyes with her stern ones. "We keep secrets for a reason."

"Secrets kill people Abby, the populous can surprise you, I believe this can bring us together." He grabs her hand with the one not in hers, squeezing gently, smiling. "If everyone on the Ark is conscious of this we can band together, get it fixed before the five years are even up."

She chews on her lip before sighing. "How long have you estimated it will take to fix?"

"Based on the current selection of mechanics and engineers five, maybe six years." He lets out a soft sigh. "If population increase at the rate it has maybe less."

She narrows her eyes, steps closer. "Increases?"

"You're the doctor Abby." His eyes dim. "I know you keep tabs on birth rates, based on past documents and the ages of those in our population now and marriage rates, population will boom in the next year or two."

She shakes her head. "Then we put a ban on having children."

"And risk decreasing future populations." His forehead drops to her shoulder and he sighs, his hand trembles in hers. "Abby you know this."

She cards fingers through his hair. "The public cannot know Jake."

He pulls back from her, shakes his head. "And what will the council suggest when you go to them with this?"

Abby swallows thickly, meeting his gaze.  _"Jake."_

"You're a doctor Abby, bound by oath to care for the injured and the sick." And his hands squeeze hers, eyes searching her face. "They will have cullings, speak of malfunctions. Kill off sections one by one. It is not right."

She almost takes a step back, frowning but he holds onto her, keeping her close. "I hate the culling as much as the next person, I shouldn't have told you about them."

"I would have figured it out on my own." He presses his forehead into her, sighing gently as she relaxes into his hold. "Every odd generations a section malfunctions, typically the working class. One without our doctors, our engineers. Ones with the elderly. It only buys us months of oxygen."

She lets out a soft sigh that flutters over his face. "Jake."

He shakes his head, presses his nose into her cheek and lets out a huff. "No Abby, the public has a right to know."

She pulls back from him, clenching her jaw as she opens her eyes. "Enough, I have to go, Clarke is observing and helping me preform an appendectomy today. Please wait until I get back to do anything drastic." Jake nods and Abby presses a kiss to his lips. "I love you Jake."

His finger smooth over the lines of her forehead. "I love you Abby, just. Think on it." Abby nods and leaves the room, hurrying down the hall.

Clarke comes out from the shadows the second her mom leaves. "You're right dad."

He spins around and lets out a sigh, rubbing at his nose. "How long have you been there kiddo?"

Clarke just stares at him, so young but so very bold. "Five years?"

His shoulders drop. "Kiddo."

"Mom's wrong, the people have a right to know." And her eyes blaze like his do, his lips twitch but her frowns instead of smiling. "They can't keep killing everyone. It's not right."

"You have to keep quiet about this." He grips her shoulder, knowing exactly how Abby felt seconds ago.  _"Promise_  me Clarke."

She nods, searching her father's face. "I won't tell anyone." Anyone had never included Wells.

"Good, go to the medical ward, your mom's expecting you there kid." Her pulls her in tight for a hug, pressing a kiss to her hair. "Love you."

"Love you dad." She buries her nose into his jackets, smells the smear of grease and metal there before she takes off down the hall. Finding her mother in the medical ward. She cleans up quickly, rushing in to help her mother prepare and watch. It had been going on for the last three years, since her tenth birthday when she watched her mother work on her father, his arm sliced open by one of the machines he was fixing and found a need to help and learn. To be better.

* * *

 

A few days later, after sitting on the news and listening to her mother and her father argue at night she tells Wells. He promises to keep it quiet, earnest eyes and quiet smile. The next day she comes home from Jackson's bumbling teaching to find her father recording his message to the citizens of the Ark.

Clarke steps from the shadows. "I can get us into the message room."

He spins quickly, eyes wide. "Clarke."

Clarke refuses to back down. "I have a friend there."

He grips her shoulder gently. "It is not safe."

"We can do this dad." Her fingers dig into his wrist and she stares up at him, always so determined. "I'm helping you."

"You picked a perfect time to act like a normal teenager." He chuckles. "Always so stubborn." Before he can say any more the door bursts open.

Two guard step forward. "Jake Griffin, you are under arrest." He bows his head and they cuff him.

Clarke bares her teeth but her father's shake of his head keeps her from attacking the guards. Instead as outspoken and determined as ever as she grabs the drive. "I'll let them know dad."

He struggles against his bindings. "Clarke, no! Do not do this." She ducks under the guards arms, running down the hall. 

"Clarke Griffin, freeze!" Two more guards chase after her and a few people press against the walls, watching the girl make a run for it before a guard steps around the corner, driving a shock lash into her stomach. She falls with a gasp, clutching the drive in her fingers as they pull her to her feet. She curls around her stomach, groaning as they drag her through the halls until they're at the Skybox and they shove her into a solitary cell. 

They drag her out hours later and heave her to the floating deck. Her heart races and then they are there, her father in front of her, looking so broken and ragged. She throws herself at him, clutching to him as her mom comes forward, her parents speak in hushed whispers she can't make out through the rushing of blood in her head as she clings to her father and the digging of metal into her hands as she grips her fathers watch when he hands it to her. She's still clutching it when he smiles back at her, trembling lips and wet eyes. He's gone with the press of a button and she falls to her knees, her mother's arms around her and Wells standing to the side, tears streaming down his face.

* * *

* * *

Abby gives her medical books a few days late, face far older than she was, sharp lines and dark circles under her eyes. "They won't float you if you are needed, doctors are need Clarke.  _Please._  Please do this."

Clarke shakes her head. "Mom, i'm a traitor, i'll get floated."

Abby presses a kiss to the crown of her head, hands trembling as the pull Clarke into her chest. "Not if we can appeal."

"I didn't steal a ration or medicine, I committed treason." Tears fill her eyes and she shakes her head against her mother's shirt. "They'll float me like dad."

"Not if you prove your worth." Abby pulls back and cradles Clarke's cheek in her palm.  _"Please_  Clarke, read those books, study like your life depends on it."

Clarke snorts rubbing at her eyes, the guard looks around nervously, visiting was not allowed for isolation prisoners. "It does mom."

The guard shifts his feet again, chewing on the inside of his cheek. "Ma'am."

"Yes, yes I know. Clarke I love you." She presses a kiss to Clarke's forehead again, tears dripping down her face. "Guard Miller will keep exchanging the books. Memorize them Clarke. Remember them, draw them. I need you to live, please baby."

"Okay. Okay. I love you mom." Clarke's voice breaks and tears fall down her face even quicker.

Abby's eyes flicker to the watch on Clarke's wrist. "I love you so much Clarke." Her voice cracks like Clarke had never heard before.

The guard swallows, hands twitching. "Councilor." 

"I'm coming." She exits the room, following after the guard in the dark of night. "Thank you Guard Miller."

"Remember your promise."

"I'll keep my word, your son will be pardoned when his time comes. Nathan has much potential."

Clarke stares down at the books, she heaves a sigh, laying on the bed and staring at the stars from the port window, her only escape in solitary. She would be here until she was eighteen. Five years to study until her brain hurt. She opens the book, easily flipping through it. She would be pardoned and she would tell her people what her father wanted to, she would finish what he started and the Council would be none the wiser. First she had to get out of her. The cullings could hold off the oxygen problem by a year or two more. It was a tight fit, almost five years in solitary and maybe six until the oxygen gave out, that was with the culling considered. Just maybe, maybe she could fulfill her father's last wish.

* * *

* * *

* * *

* * *

A year and three months later, a couple months after Clarke's fourteenth birthday, guards burst into her room. Shoving her against the wall, they try to tug her father watch off and she throws her elbow back, catching him in the chin before her head knocks back into the other guard like her father had taught her. Her head swims in pain but she runs from the room, spotting the others being shoved out of their rooms, screaming about it not being their time. They are all young, similar in age to Clarke if not younger. Some of them are almost eighteen, clear by the terror in their faces. Clarke's mom steps in front of her, stopping her in her tracks and cradles her face before she can run any more. "Are they floating us all? A prisoner culling mom?" 

"No, they're sending you to earth Clarke." There are tears in her mother's eyes. "This is a better chances at survival than you guys had."

Clarke shakes her head. "It'll kill us, the radiation."

"The storms died down years ago, Jackson brought the idea to me when we were working on our health checks." And her fingers smooth over Clarke's face. "We've been so much closer to the sun than the Earth is, with luck you'll filter the radiation better. You guys can  _survive."_

Clarke shakes her head, frantic and scared as any child would be. "You don't know this."

"I do, you're a survivor Clarke." Abby's fingers tighten. "Your instincts will tell you to take care of everyone else, just like your father wanted too, but you must protect yourself Clarke."

Clarke shakes her head again. "A doctor's oath."

"Matter not when the doctor is dead." Abby's fingers tighten until they are almost bruising. "Think before you act, do not risk yourself needlessly, promise me Clarke."

"I promise, why?" Clarke chokes on her words, before letting out a shaking exhale. "Why now?"

"Jaha, the council voted for this." Guard Mendez shifts behind them, allowing Abby her scant last moments. "I wanted to wait until you were older but they want the data now. They voted against my recommendations. They want more time to plan our descent to Earth once you guys find it inhabitable."

"We'll die."

"I believe in you Clarke, you will live." Abby kisses her forehead, tears dripping down her face. "I love you so much Clarke."

"I love you too mom, ple-" Her words cut off when a guard shoots her with a dart and Clarke's body is flooded with a drug that forces her into unconsciousness. Abby glares at the man, ' _Fry'_  stitched across his chest, as Guard Mendez moves to lead another kid down to the ship, eyes downcast.

Guard Fry glares back. "She was creating a scene, you both were, she's the last there once Jaha gets strapped in."

Abby looks up in shock. "What did he do?"

Guard Fry snorts. "He dislocated two guards shoulders after he caused a fire to the mother tree."

Guard Miller comes forward, shoving the other man toward the drop-ship. "Get the kids seated, make sure they're strapped in tightly." He looks down at Abby after the other guard leaves, bending down to pick Clarke up gently. "I'm sorry Abby."

"It's fine David, we tried, the most we can do now is prepare them. Have you spoken to Nathan?"

"My son is confused but understanding." And he looks as heartbroken as she is. "They'll launch in twenty minutes after diagnostic checks."

Abby presses her fingers into Clarke's wrist, feeling her pulse beat against her fingers as he sets Clarke on the gurney. "They're children."

David Miller shifts his feet before leaning closer to whisper to her. "I managed to sneak someone on, he's hidden under a beanie until the ship drops."

"Who?"

"Bellamy Blake, his sister is on the ship." His eyes are downcast and he lets out a sigh. "He's nineteen, all we can risk going down there without someone knowing our plans."

There's some hope then. Blake was once in the sky box, once a part of the guard too and pardoned due to his mother's insistence that he wasn't involved in the deceit of Aurora Blake and her second child. "Any weapons?"

"No, we would get found out easily." And there's regret on his face. "No one will notice him missing until long after the drop-ship has landed and cameras went out to the drop ship thanks to a friend. He will be assumed to have snuck on himself to be with his sister."

They walk quietly down the hall, pushing Clarke's gurney. "Any supplies?"

"We couldn't risk much if any, some guards managed to sneak canteens on there, empty, but they will help when they land. A few canvas bags as well."

"Why would they risk it? You have your son, but none of them have kids on the drop-ship?"

"We've guarded these kids for years Councilor, we grew attached to some of them." And there is heartbreak written all across his face, the heartbreak of a man who had seen kids grow and the die too soon. "Not all guards are righteous and cruel like Shumway."

They get Clarke strapped in, her chest rising slow and steady and David presses his fingers to Nathan Miller's shoulder where the boy sits five seats away from Clarke. "I love you son." Miller, thirteen and terrified clings to his father's hand but puts on a brave face and nods, murmuring the words back.

Wells stares at Abby from his seat beside Clarke's prone form. "I'll look out for her."

Abby smooths a hand down his cheek and then slips it down to squeeze his shoulder. "And yourself Wells."

"We'll look after each other." Wells says softly, face split open and sluggishly bleeding from his fight with the guards.

The other guards are giving them room, cautiously looking around. Guard Miller speaks up, gaining the attention of the one hundred prisoners of the Ark. "Protect one another, you will need it."

"We're children, you can't do this." Roma, thick hair wild and curling around her face screams, lips split from fighting the guards when they pulled her from her cell. She is fourteen and all sharp angles, long limbs and righteous fury. 

"I'm sorry Roma." The girl stiffens at her name coming from Abby's lips. "The council voted."

"Your'e killing us all." She sobs out, terrified and angry.

Abby swallows. "You're saving us all, remember this. You guys are saving the other children on the Ark. You're saving your families."

John Murphy screams, thrashes against his straps. "My family is dead because of the Ark, screw all of you! You're sacrificing us!"

"Abby, we must go." His eyes meet Bellamy's before the stowaway ducks his head and tucks his chin tight to his chest, ignoring them all so he doesn't bring attention to himself. "You are brave children."

"That's right! We're children!" Murphy screams, howling his rage and thrashing in his straps still. "You're murderers! Monsters!"

The doors shuts behind the adults and the hundred prisoners and one stowaway are alone. Some of the other kids that are awake scream as well, letting their rage, frustration and fear be heard before the countdown begins on the screen and they grow quiet. Scared as they watch the numbers counting down until it hits one and suddenly their bodies are jerking and they are off, stomachs dropping before they settle. There's pressure on their shoulders and waists where the straps dig in but for now they are fine, falling to Earth ever so slowly, gradually gaining speed. Clarke wakes up slowly as the ship shudders, eyes finding the boy next to her, confused and half awake. "Wells?"

He smiles softly at her, lips still bleeding. "Hey."

She narrows her eyes at him, blinking in confusion. "What're you doing here?"

His shoulder's curve in and his lips twitch. "I couldn't let you go alone. I heard about the drop-ship to Earth and I got myself arrested." Soft eyes earnest and sad all in one.

"I don't need you." She sneers, tears in her eyes, trying to mad and strong all at once.

He nods, swallowing the pain away. "I know."

"I hate you." Her words crack as they leave her lips.

He swallows down his sobs and nods. "I know."

The floor rattles all around them. A boy makes to cut out of his straps and a harsh voice berates him. "Finn, don't!"

"What? We'd totally be spacewalking then." He grins all charm and recklessness.

The girl scoffs. "You'll die when the rockets kick in."

He rolls his eyes. "Relax Raven."

The girl sneers and growls at him. "Which of us was going to be a mechanic?'

He lets out a sigh and rolls his eyes. "You."

"Then listen to me dipshit, those rocket deploy and you hit the floor  _hard_  when they kick in. You die." Everyone remains in their seats and then Jaha comes over the screen and radio, image flickering before settling.

_"Prisoners of the ark, hear me now. You've been given a second chance and as your Chancellor, it is my hope that you see this as not just a chance for you, but a chance for all of us, indeed for mankind itself."_

"Pretentious dick!" Some shouts at the video.

_"-o idea what is waiting for you down there. If the odds of survival were better, we would've sent other. Frankly, we're sending you because your crimes have made you expendable."_

"Your dad's a dick Wells." Another kid shouts.

Clarke grits her teeth before someone else speaks up. "He knows Matthew, why else would he be here with us." Another boy sneers, seventeen and angry. "Sent his own son to die, does it feel good to be down in the dirt for once? No longer so privileged are you Jaha?"

Wells swallows, bowing his head down. "My dad cannot bend the rules for anyone, even his own son." And there is that usually diplomacy there that always gritted Clarke's bones, always made arguing with him tiring and fun. 

The video glitches as it continues before it comes through again.  _"Those crimes will be forgiven, your records wiped clean."_   Chancellor Jaha tilts his chin high, voice steady.  _"May we meet again Prisoners of the Ark, hopefully on better terms than those we sent you down in."_

"Self righteous prick!" Another kid screams, thrashing in his seat. "Thinks he can pardon us after he tries to kill us. Fuck the Ark, fuck the Chancellor. He can go float himself!"

The kids shout around him and then there are screams are the air around them grows hot. "What's going on?" Wells fingers find Clarke's and if she had been older, colder, she would have thrown his hand off and screamed at him, but she is fourteen. She is scared and lost and he is her  _best_ _friend_ despite everything.

Raven Reyes grits her teeth. "Atmosphere, hold on tight guys."

"Shouldn't the rockets deploy by now?" Wells cautions.

Raven shoots him a look that could freeze a guard in his tracks. "Its a hundred years old, give it time." She looks at the kids strapped to the wall. "Pull you feet up, they'll shatter on impact. Fucking idiot guards strapped you in wrong."

Jasper Jordan, goggles tucked over his eyes clenches his jaw and grips his straps as the wall grows hotter against his back. "We're gonna die." He groans out pitifully.

"We'll be fine Jasper." Smaller and much frailer, Monty Greene reaches for Jasper's hand, trembling in fear an trying to for bravado into his words. "We'll be fine."

All around murmurs of fear are made, children cling to one another, hands tight before there is a jerk and roar of rockets. "Finally." Raven mutters, fear tinged in relief.

Clarke clutches Wells finger, trembles. "Clarke, there's something I have to tell you."

"No." There are tears in her eyes. "There's nothing that could make me forgive you. My dad's  _dead_  wells."

He nods sadly tears fill his eyes. "I know. I'm so sorry."

She blinks away her own tears and fights the urge to forgive him. "I hate you."

He bows his head. "I know."

There is a shuddering jerk and their bodies seem to be suspended for a few minutes and someone questions, full of hope and confusion. "Is it over?"

There is another jerk suddenly and the sound of creaking metal and then they are spinning, heads slamming back in their seats and against the wall. Straps digging into their skin harsh enough to bruise. "One of the parachutes must have ripped." Raven yells as everyone's stomach swoop and their equilibrium is completely lost, their hands clenched around their straps and each other. "Brace for impact you idiots." 

Times seems to speed up and everyone screams loud and terrified as the drop-ship continues to spin and spin until there is a roar and a shudder before everything around them jars with the sound of metal crushing. Strap dig into shoulders hard enough to draw blood on some and screams sound and then everything is dark, the lights cutting out suddenly. Clarke scream dies out, fingers tightening on Wells hand as stars dance across her vision and her head throbs before everything fades away.

* * *

 

She wakes minutes later to chaos. Wells is struggling out of his straps, standing on shaking feet before he cuts Clarke's straps away with a twisted piece of metal. Clarke groans pressing her fingers to her throbbing head, she comes back with blood. Wells eyes are glazed but worried. "We need. What do we need?" He mumbles, stumbling, attempting to keep his footing with a swimming head.

Clarke shakes her head, it doesn't help, just makes the pain throbs and blood drip down her forehead. The blonde looks around, some kids are twisted in their straps, chests not moving. Pieces of the metal are scattered throughout the drop-ship, some impaled into the wall, others into the passengers. The ship smells like the tanginess of the operating room after a surgery, thick with blood, but the new smell, harsh and tight against their lungs is new. Cloying against their lungs. Fire? Smoke? "OCTAVIA!?" There is a deep shout, and a man, older than eighteen but just  _barely,_  struggling out of his straps, looking around frantically. "O?!"

Wells creeps over to Raven, feeling her neck for a pulse. "Clarke, we need to save them."

She shakes out of her stupor. "Check breathing first then pulse, don't move their heads." She stumbles to her feet fighting nausea and dark spots. "Are there any fires?"

Someone drops down next to her, it is the boy with goggles, nose swollen and lips split. "Not here, only outside the drop ship." He gestures to where he once was strapped to the wall where the boy next to him hangs limp and unconscious, chest barely moving. "Can you get Monty down?"

"Check his breathing, tap his cheek to wake him. Ask how his neck feels."

Clarke stumbles to each person, slowly find those dead and those alive. Most people stumble out of the drop-ship, unworried about the air, just wanting to get out of the ship. Away from the bodies and the blood. Wells finds a nine year old huddled into her seat, scared out of her mind, straps locked tight around her tiny frame. "I'm Wells."

She sneers at him. "I know who you are  _Jaha."_

He swallows. "I'm gonna help you get out of here okay."

She sniffs and glares at him, full of so much more hate than possible for her tiny body. "I don't need your help."

"Clarke, she told me to get the injured out." His voice is a soft timber, soothing as he keeps his hands away from the girl, offering the small gentle smiles he was known for. "She's a doctor so I kind of have to follow the doctor's orders, right?" The girl narrows her eyes before nodding at him.

* * *

* * *

* * *

 

"Wells I can't do this, I've only trained with mom for three years then read one year in isolation." Her hands are in her hair and wide eyes as filling with frustrated tears as her brain fights against her concussion and the thick cloying smell of smoke and blood.

"You can do this Clarke, I believe in you.  _Breathe."_ He is as solid as the day he found out his mother had cancer. As solid as the day her father died. He is there and calm. Steady where she isn't.

She falls into his chest like she always had, before the skybox, before her father's death. "I'm fourteen and they're counting on me to save them, to heal them."

"All you can do is your best." And he says it like its _enough._

She rubs at her cheeks, blood painting across them as she pulls back. "I don't-"

"Think like it is a book, like it's the videos you observe," His hand is calming on her shoulder and all the others are watching them cautiously. "There's an explosion, its an old earth video. They're out in the field and shrapnel hit the kids leg. What do you do?"

She pulls in a deep breathe, eyes closed before she lets it out. "Leave the object in, assess the damage."

He nods gently. "Good, and then?"

She pulls in a shuddering breath. "Based on the damage, the blood flow and the lack of near medical station, take it out and fix the leg or take the leg entirely."

"Look at the kid." His fingers squeeze her shoulder again. steady and there. Calming. "What's your plan?"

Her eyes hawk over him, the others are tying off pieces of their shirts onto bleeding wounds, circled around Clarke outside the drop-ship, the older kids watch her cautiously. Bellamy Blake, keeps his sister's mumbling injured form tucked into his chest like he can shield her from all the hurt and pain. Clarke stares at the kid groaning on the ground, unconscious but still in pain, a piece of the drop ship sticking out of his leg. "Get me a piece of metal, put it in one of the fires get it as hot as possible."

Wells motions to one of the older kids who does just that. "Now what?"

Clarke looks up at those around her before she pulls in a deep breath and speaks, voice slowly growing louder and more steady. "If you're injured stay here, I need it by severity. A bang to the head can wait to be stitched or assessed last. If you have shrapnel, let me come to you. If you're bleeding tie something to it tightly and apply pressure, press until it hurt and then keep pressing. If the bleeding won't stop come to me right away." Clarke meets all their eyes. "If you are not hurt." Her voice waivers. "Severely and you can move get supplies from the ship, anything you think we can use. Hopefully they sent us with things to get started down here."

"And the dead?" It's one of the older kids, wide eyes and pale face of someone in shock, bright red hair against his pale face making him look like a ghost of the old stories.

Bellamy looks up sharply at the sixteen year old boy that had looked to the two sitting in the middle of camp like they could fix everything before he speaks up, pulling attention to himself. "Pile them to the west of the ship, behind it. We'll bury or burn them later."

Wells speaks up. "Strip them of shoes and jackets, well need to redistribute them later." He swallows and pushes on. "If anything else is salvageable get it."

"From the dead?" It's one of the older kids, blinking away the blood from their bright green eyes. 

"We have limited supply." Bellamy's voice is stern but it waivers as his fingers smooth over his sister's hair. "Baby Jaha is right, we need the supplies. Listen."

A kid not much younger than Wells and Clarke brings Clarke a hot metal wrapped in cloth at the end. "Wells, hold his leg, someone else hold his shoulders." She grips the metal embedded in the kids leg tightly. "Give me the metal when I tell you." She pulls in a deep breath as she rips the piece out. "Now." She grabs the bright white and hot metal by the clothe and shoves it into the kid's wound, pressing it hard and waiting for a few seconds, letting it burn all the veins and flesh. Letting it cauterize the flesh to stop the bleeding. He wakes up screaming, thrashing and biting at the cloth in his mouth as he nearly chokes on the pain. She rips the hot metal away and stares at the wound, pressing her fingers around it before nodding, relieved that it is not bleeding any longer. "It stopped the bleeding. He'll need bed rest a few days then crutches for a few weeks before he can  _even_  try walk on it. Damage to the muscle may be there. I don't know if he'll walk without help ever again." The kids' eyes flutter open and he groans softly, tears cutting pale tracks through the blood and ash on his cheeks. His breathing is labored and pained.

And it continues like this long into the day, the sun was barely in the sky when they landed and now the sun is past mid day and growing closer to the ground and they do what they can with half of them laid up by injuries and exhausted. They let the sun soak into their skin, smell the fresh air coming to cleanse out the smell of blood and burnt fuel. Soon they have their own intentional fire going in the middle of the burned area in front of the drop ship. Wells and a few other kids having gathered twigs, small branches and leaves until it burned bright and big. The high mountains behind them offers protection from the wind, the metal glinting against it from where the drop-ship embedded itself into the wall of rock and dirt, looking for all the while like it was meant to be there. The drop-ship door barely touches the ground while it is open, leaving a small 14 inch gap between the ground and the bottom of the drop ship, luckily the thing is upright. Parachutes flutters on the top of it, torn and half burnt and the communications are a mess from Raven and Wells inspections.

They stare at the dead piled behind the drop ship before Wells begins to dig a hole with jagged pieces from the drop ship. The ground is cold and so are they, he barely makes a dent in the dirt before someone sighs, low and guilty. "It's too cold, should we burn them?" There are cries of outrage and shock before they all nod, taking the grass and broken sticks around them before piling the bodies together yards away from camp. Wells starts it, voice quiet and echoing as he presses a burning cloth to the bodies. "In peace many you leave the shore. In love may you find the next." Slowly the other join in, Wells' hand finding Clarke's and everyone's voices echo, solemn and strong throughout the mountain. "Safe passage on your travels until our final journey to the ground. May we meet again."

Raven dumps fuel over the bodies, a little left over from the drop-ship, before the bodies blaze to life, burning bright and ash collects in the air, carried away by the wind. They stand there watching the bodies burn, watching them blacken and roast until they soon become ash as well, floating into the sky like they belonged there. Everyone backs away slowly, in groups, heading back to the drop-ship, to their camp. There are no walls, and the drop-ship reeks of blood and burnt metal. The first night they sleep outside the drop-ship, curled together by the fire for warmth instead of the metal cage that had brought them to Earth. That is their first mistake.


	2. Chapter 2

Howls reverberate around the night and everyone wakes with a start, the fire has died down to embers, and eyes glow in the night. "Wolves." They murmur in shock, fear and a little bit of awe.

"Drop-ship!" Someone shouts and they move as one, kids scrambling to their feet and wolves lunging at them, circling and trying to herd them. The wolves grab the slowest of them, tearing into throats and legs. "Embege!" John Murphy screams, slamming a pipe into the wolf who ripped into his friend's throat, before slipping the sharpened end into the ribs of the wolf with a guttural rage filled yell. The wolf falls limp, whimpering and coughing and the other wolves release low rumbles and growls, eyes glinting. Raven Reyes stumbles over a piece of rubble before a wolf corners her, lunging forward to take a bite to her leg, she screams terrified and full of pain.

It rips into her, shaking its head side to side as she beats on its head. Finn tackles it in its side with a shout. They roll away from her as she screams and then someone is dragging Raven, bloodied and yelling for Finn, into the ship. Bellamy Blake shoves his sister in first, frantic and eyes darting to and fro. Miller grabs a few of the younger kids as the older kids shoves at the others to get into the drop-ship. Wells grabs Charlotte, heaving her over his shoulder when she stands stock still in shock and fear as Clarke helps a limping Myles into the ship, Finn helping her when he gets away from the wolf. The door shuts with the wolves snuffling and growling at the door and one last scream from the last remaining kid that was left outside, under three wolves already tearing into him when the door shut. They all flinch as his scream dies off to a pain-filled gurgle. A wolf howls, loud and reverberating, nothing like they had ever imagined. Bone-chilling and shrill.

They situate themselves in the drop ship, Raven limp on the floor, blood dripping from her knee under a crude bandage made of a ripped shirt. Clarke dumps what little water they have over it before burning it shut once Tristan, seventeen and sandy haired, starts a small fire, the smoke escaping out the small holes in the side and top of the drop-ship. Raven screams at the intense pain before falling unconscious again, Finn clutching her hand with her head in his lap. The others are patched up and they sit in silence, flinching at every howl and sound from outside. No one sleeps. The sun begins to peek through small holes in the side and ceiling of the drop-ship and the wolves haven't been heard in an hour when they open the door cautiously. They stare at the blood on the ground, bits of clothing and body parts left behind.  John Murphy kicks at the wolf lying dead on the ground with all the rage of someone who had lost the last person important to them. 

Wells bends down at the one Murphy had hit with the pipe last night and had just got done kicking, sniffing at its bloody and still wet side and looking over the body. "You stabbed it in its lungs."

Murphy glares at Wells, eyes wet. "So?"

"So it's still warm." He presses his fingers to the fur. "The other wolves must have left it behind because it was dying. We can eat it."

Murphy blinks in shock and apprehension. "What?"

"We were in the drop-ship two and a half hours according to Clarke's watch, it had to have died mere minutes ago, choking on its own blood." Murphy looks too gleeful at the fact that it had suffered. "We can skin it and cook its meat."

They carry the bodies of the dead, mostly pieces and half eaten chests, to the pit, burning their friends as other warily drag long pieces of metal around the drop ship, some get started on weapons with Bellamy Blake directing them. Clarke fixes those she can, patching them up with the little bits of cloth with the smell of burning flesh heavy in the air. Wells skins the wolf, Finn easily scaling the side of the drop-ship to let it dry out up there. Fallen trees are dragged into camp by Bellamy Blake and the less injured older of the hundred. "We need a fence, first line of defense. " Bellamy's voice is stern and they all look to the oldest of them, nineteen and previously a guard. Previously in the sky-box with some of them years ago when Octavia was first discovered. Their flasks are empty and their throats dry. Finn volunteers to get water, Wells goes with him, eyes darting back to Clarke before he heads out. Murphy, a bone to pick with any wolves they find, trails after them. Monty reluctantly goes as well due to growing up in Farm Station and his adeptness as Earth Skills, while Clarke continues to treat the wounded and Jasper entertains the children with jokes and bright eyes as he scrapes a piece of thin metal along the rocks to sharpen it. 

Most of them are young and scared of this terrifying new world, the younger ones unconsciously copying the older one's facial expressions and motions. They easily fall into line, scraping at metal until it is sharp. Raven Reyes grabs piping from the drop-ship, ordering Charlotte to grab things for her. Clarke burns some more wounds, still unable to find anything to use as stitching. Noting the intestines of the wolf sitting in a crude bucket she  mumbles to Myles, barely conscious about 'catgut', stitches from an old world, made from animal intestines and water. 

The fence is pitiful and half put together when the sky begins to turns gold and then darken. As the sun falls low they all fall into the drop-ship, waiting on the others with the door open as the darkness continues to creep in. Finally Finn and Wells lug a parachute strapped between four thin logs into camp, water sloshing over the edge. Murphy has a crude homemade spear in his hand, a long knobby stick with metal from the drop-ship strapped to it with pieces of his shirt. Monty a bagful of things from the rocky forest, nuts and small berries, grins at Jasper as the boys rushes out of the drop-ship and to his side. Wells has a small bag strapped to his hips, steps short as he compensates for the heavy load of water and the bag on his hip. Hope and relief blooms in everyone's chest at the sight of the water and their friends.

Hastily they set the water between the seats in the drop ship, hooking the logs onto them. Greta looks up from where she is weaving thin cut straps from the drop ship into rope and bags. They grab half formed cups that were hammered into shape earlier that day and some canteens before they drink their fill, then load all of the canteens full of water until they're sloshing. The parachute made water tough is half full now. They shut the door to the drop-ship as the sun slowly vanishes from the sky, full of water and hope they wait the night out, listening to the wolves snuff and prowl around their camp, huffing at the door. The wolves move under the drop-ship, the ship suspended barely a foot in the air. Their small huffs and growls making everyone silent and tense. They continue to search for entrance before moving to the door again. They scratch at it, growling before seemingly giving up. What remains of the hundred stay in the drop-ship, unwilling to go out without the protection of the sun and fire. 

Wells sits down near Clarke after a few tense minutes, his voice is low and barely loud enough to hear in the fearful quiet. "I got some seaweed, Earth Skills talked about it. Some people ate seaweed before the wars."

Clarke looks up sharply, a spark in her eyes. "It also has healing properties, do you remember where you got it?"

He nods eagerly, seeing where she's going with this. "Yeah."

"We'll need more." She sits up quickly, grabbing a crude thin bowl and the handle of a knife that curves oddly. She begins to crush the seaweed, making an odd smelling paste as she mixes in a little bit of water. "Hey!" Everyone looks to her, mostly half awake from exhaustion and fear. "Wells got seaweed, i'm making a paste, I need you guys to clean your wounds off with water and then rub the paste on it thickly." She moves to Raven, doing it for the groaning girl then to the boy, Myles, who took the shrapnel to his thigh, as well as the younger kids who look up at her with trust and awe.

The next day when the sun is high and the wolves are gone the fence is going better, the ropes Greta made last night, used to keep it together. A larger group leaves today, Monty grabbing another empty rucksack that had been hidden in the wall, possibly by the guards that had cared for them. Wells goes with them, Clarke staying behind to care for the injured. Octavia, out of Bellamy's sight sneaks after them. She shoots a narrowed gaze at Clarke when the blonde spots her but Clarke tilts her chin, ignoring the girl and worrying about her patients as Octavia takes after the group, catching up to Wells, Finn and the others. Bellamy is ordering those around the fence, too preoccupied with getting it up to notice his sister is gone. Too preoccupied with making sure the youngest of their group don't wander away and stay safe, trusting Octavia to have listened to his orders to stay put and rest her injured head.

Clarke goes back to the five injured that remain in the drop-ship, slipping those that can have it, pieces of the wolf, cooked and severely dried by the fire. They munch on them and sip at the hot tea Clarke had made with the seaweed. Their faces look less pale today, fevers that had been coming broken. Raven grunts as she tries to move her knee, glaring at it.

"I think they tore a few of the tendons there." Clarke says as she kneels down next to the girl and prods at it with her fingers, feeling around the gnarly wound as Raven winces. "You can bend it, but weight will be hard to support without a brace. The pain will be bad until it heals and it will heal incorrectly without surgery."

Raven clenches her jaw. "So i'll never walk gain?"

"You'll walk, with crutches or a brace, but it'll take a while for it to heal and be able to bend." Clarke swallows, chewing on her lip. "Somewhat."

Raven lets out  huff then her eyes soften as she looks to the kid that fell asleep next to her, leg propped up high and sleeping soundly, as soundly as one in pain can. "What about him?"

"I thought a couple of weeks at most but now." Clarke sighs, rubbing at her forehead. "He'll need crutches for a year or two if it shredded through the muscles and nerves like I think it did."

"Will he walk?"

"With physical therapy he could possibly walk without crutches, but I don't think he'll be able to run. Ever."

Raven nods and stares at the other three in the drop-ship, sleeping and healing after having food and medicine in their bellies. "And the others?"

"Have wounds to their abdomens." Clarke stares at them and lets out a sigh of relief. "The metal didn't pierce anything vital thank goodness, but they risked tearing the healing wounds if they moved too much. They need to stay mostly immobile, drinking the broth from the animal meat."

Raven grins at Clarke, shaking her head in awe. "You a doctor?"

Clarke shrugs. "Was going to be."

The mechanic lets out a soft sound, nodding in understanding. "What're you in for?"

Clarke looks up quickly, something bright in her eyes. "Treason."

"What?" Raven snorts, shaking her head in disbelief that this slip of a girl was in lock-up for treason. "You plan an assassination?"

"My dad, Jake Griffin, found a flaw in the oxygen system." Clarke pulls her knees to her chest, setting her chin atop one, eyes watering. "It'll fail by the time i'm eighteen, maybe nineteen. He wanted to tell everyone, I agreed with him." Her face darkens. "The council did not."

"Shit." Raven's face is full of shock and then anger. "They floated their best chance at fixing it and sent their next best chance after down here."

Clarke eyes her skeptically, rooting for a name. "Who're you?"

Raven holds out her hand, grinning widely. "Raven Reyes, best mechanic in 49 years."

Clarke tilts her chin in understanding, grinning as she shakes the mechanic's hand. "The space-walker."

"Yeah, they didn't think i'd be able to go outside into space, heart murmur. Finn helped me get out, wasted three months of oxygen when they caught us." Her head ducks low. "Sinclair approved it, he told me. Said i'd go back once I was eighteen as long as Jaha didn't turn down my pardon." Raven snorts. "Guess Jaha didn't feel like pardoning many people before he sent us down here."

They sit in silence for a while before Charlotte comes in through the ramp, lugging a large piece of metal to Raven. "Thanks tiny human." The girl scowls at her. "Hey now, i'm gonna be making you a knife, least you can do is get me things before I can move." Raven looks around. "Speaking of, cut me some cushion from the chairs you can find it in, i'll need it."

Charlotte looks curious. "What're you making?"

"Crutches for me and him." She grins widely. "Then a fucking brace, I'm not staying in this ship."

"That all you're doing?" Clarke motions to the piping around the girl as she presses the seaweed between to metal pieces, flattening them to dry out for later use. 

"No, if I can put some fuel into these pipes safely we can chuck them at the wolves, bar-b-que a la wolves via Reyes. Cooked food and dead wolves."

Clarke looks up, staring at the mechanics wild eyes. "It won't blow them to pieces?"

Raven thumps her knee and grimaces. "It might but at least they'd be dead."

Clarke stares at the pipping in the other girl's hands. "Be careful, I can't fix some injuries."

* * *

Miller and Octavia come back dragging a deer, its antlers large and imposing. Miller has a bruise blooming across his face and Octavia is covered in mud, grinning ear to ear. Bellamy starts yelling the second he spots her, gaining the attention of everyone in the camp. But Octavia glares back, fighting with a reckless abandon. Wells, Miller and Murphy defending her until it is an overlapping of screaming and voices, barely understandable with the sheer volume and amount of people yelling.

Roma glances up from where she sharpens a sword, wrapping thin pieces of cloth from the drop-ship parachutes as a handle. It is wobbly but effective to kill, she throws a crudely made knife at the younger girl. Everyone stumbles back, Bellamy glaring at the girl as Octavia grabs the knife, eyes sparking. "She's good Blake, let her be."

Bellamy snarls. "She's my sister! I know whats good for her and wha-"

"Stop it Bell! I didn't escape from one cage to fall into another. You're suffocating me." There's defiance in her eyes, stubborn as she is.

"O." His voice is heavy, thick with resignation.

Her chin tilts high and everyone watches on, unused to these displays, unused to siblings. "No Bell, please don't cage me. I'm free, we're all free now. Let me be free."

They stare at each other for a long while before Bellamy relents. "Just don't go out by yourself, please Octavia."

A blinding grin, too wide for her face, splits across it and Octavia launches herself into Bellamy's arms, squeezing as tight as her small arms can around his ever broadening chest.

 

* * *

* * *

Five days later Murphy sits atop the drop ship, Finn beside him, Miller hanging from a piece of the fence as the sun slips lower and lower into the horizon. Clarke nervously shifts in her crouched position, medical bag on her shoulder as Wells sits beside her on a small perch design specifically for their grand show down. Octavia manages to sneak out, crooked sword in her hand, with jerking limbs and a too big heart. Wells eyes her but doesn't say anything as Miller and Murphy shift to cover her weak spots, waiting. Slowly the crunch of multiple feet on the ground break the silence. The wolves come out of the shadows, expecting the ease of coming into camp and taking what they want again. Having devoured the scraps for the last two nights the kids had been leaving out to ease the wolves into a sense of normalcy and security. The wolves sniff out the deer stomach Monty had left in the middle of camp, snarling and fighting over it and the intestines until they find the heart. Those outside the drop-ship all hold their tongue and breath as one wolf, the largest one, sniffs at it before the three that ate the stomach and intestines begin hacking and coughing before they fall limp on the ground.

Murphy grins and Finn drops down from the ship as planned. The remaining wolves stalks closer to him, snarling before Octavia drops with a yell, drawing their attention and disrupting the plan. Bellamy yells from inside the drop-ship, the door begins opening and Murphy lets out his own howl, jumping behind the wolf. Miller thumps down, hand tight on his own crooked spear as they corner the wolf. It lunges, catching a spear to its side before it's mouth snaps at Murphy's hand, the one holding the knife, it takes a finger with it before Octavia screams, slicing her sword down and catching it on its neck. It's growl splutters out as it dies. 

Wells and Clarke drop down next, Clarke pouring water on Murphy's hand before wrapping it with a cloth doused in seaweed paste. Wells points to the large wolf lying dead on the ground, voice steady. "We eat that one, skin the others, we'll need the pelts. Don't eat their meat, Monty poisoned them with the deer organs."

The drop-ship opens and everyone moves as told. Bellamy grabbing Octavia's shoulders, shaking her in his fear as he shouts."What the hell O?!" She scowls at him, shoving away. Bellamy rubs at his face, taking shuddering breathes to calm down. "You're 13 O."

"So?" Her voice is leveled with challenge and defiance as the others scatter to do their jobs and give the siblings their space, something they found out the two Blakes needed after the fifth fight.

His face slips into a snarl as his voice hardens and he looks more like the adult he is. Old, weary and angry. "You're a child."

Octavia shoves at his chest again, her own face twisted into a snarl, not as sharp on her face still surrounded by the plumpness of childhood. "The others are barley a year older then me."

"O." He grumbles out, jaw clenched.

"We're on the ground." She reminds him like he couldn't feel it with every breath he took. With every morning that passed. " We're free, don't you trust me Bell?"

His face looses its edge and he sighs, weary once again. "I promised mom to look out for you."

"Then let me learn to protect myself." Earnest and with all the bravado of  youth she presses. "What if you're not around?"

His shoulder square and he steps closer to her, reaching for her shoulder. "I will be, always." 

"What if you're not?" She reaches up to grip his wrist instead of throwing his hold off. "Who'll protect me then?" Earnest and manipulative she furrows her brow at him, playing on every instinct Bellamy has.

He stares at her, brow furrowed as he wars with himself before he lets out a weary sigh. "Fine O, fine. But no more hunting trips."

Indignant she jerks backwards, throwing his hand off her shoulder once again. "Bell!"

"No Octavia." Stern, like he remembers his mother being sometimes, a voice that leaves no room for argument. The voice of a parent, the voice of a boy given the responsibility of a child too young. "I worry about you enough, there's kids younger than you that I need to watch too."

"Then let me grow up." She doesn't beg, she just about orders it, everything about her defiant. "Watch them, they need you."

"I need _you_ O." His voice cracks and he looks lost, eyes watering and full of so much fear and love.

"Good." Her voice cracks and she leans in to hug him, sighing into his chest. "I need you too you big stupid lug." He sighs in defeat, wrapping his arms around her and squeezing tight like he could keep her safe with just that.

The smell of burning bodies is thick in the air, except this time it is the wolves and not the children. There's whoops of joy as the single wolf not poisoned is cooked and the pelts thrown atop the ship to dry out. Bones and ash cover the burning spot and they all stand there and watch the bodies burn. Wolf ash and bones joining the human ash and bones already there

Atom stares at the fire, his face twisted in grief and thought, lines deep on his too young face.  He speaks quietly, though he draws the attention of everyone. "I only remember some of the names." Everyone stops what they're doing and Murphy trembles, his face cracked open like someone took a sledge hammer to it before he scrambles up the side of the ship and with his knife in hand he carves  _'Embege'_ into the side of the drop ship, crooked but full of so much love. Slowly the names of the thirty-one lost are carved into the wall, sometimes their full name and other times just the name they went by, the name they would be remembered by. Sixteen lost the drop-ship crash and fifteen to the wolves the first night. They stare at the names, aching in a way too big for their hearts and small chests.

* * *

* * *

* * *

* * *

 ONE MONTH LATER

 

A few miles away from camp they stumble upon voices, slowly they follow them, cautious and curious. Wells and Monty flank Clarke, the three of them on a mission for medical herbs, edible plants and berries, while Miller holds his spear and leads a grumbling Murphy and a quiet Atom in front of them. Octavia easily and nimbly slips between the two groups until they all come to the ravine that scours the flat area below the cliffs of their home and a small enclave next to it. The enclave is half hidden by a few trees and a small hill made of scraggly rock and moss. They find a girl whimpering between two men coated in white furs with white powder spread across their faces and another quietly setting up camp, the two men sneer at her in some odd language before kicking out with their feet.

Murphy grits his teeth, looking to Clarke and Wells, eager to put a stop to it but steady where he hadn't been with the wolves. Miller holds up his hand half a question and an order. Clarke tilts her chin in agreement and they fan out quietly, the month on the ground letting them moves somewhat quieter among the rocky terrain. Octavia quickly climbs up one of the sparse trees like Finn had taught her. They circle around the enclave, sticking to the shadows thrown across the ground from the slowly coming dawn. With a howl, eerily like a wolf, from Murphy they strike. Octavia launches out of the tree and lands on the first guy, slicing into his throat as Murphy tackles the other man that had been kicking the girl, Miller heads straight for the other, throwing his spear with the precision of a month of no stop practice. It buries itself in the mans chest before he can finish standing, his hand dropping the sword he'd grabbed in his haste to rise and fight. Clarke goes straight to the girl, dropping to her knees to inspect the injuries. Monty and Wells stick to the outsides of the make shift camp, keeping look out and their hands clean of any death. They are young and untrained but they are quick and full of righteous fury.

All is quiet and the others begins to relax. The girl's breathing rattling against her chest, Clarke taps her cheek, grey eyes flicker to stare at her from the bruised hollows of her face. "You're safe. I promise." The girl murmurs unintelligibly and Clarke brings the girl's head to her chest, smoothing fingers over injuries. Her skin is slightly darker than Miller's and her hair curls wildly against Clarke's chest, knotted by dirt and twigs but a dark brown, almost black.

Murphy stops kicking at the dead man's body, blood splattered across his face. "What do we do?" He doesn't look fourteen in this moment, his nose pointed and pale against the dark splashes of blood on his cheek, eyes alight with a malice and hatred he saved for people who hurt those who couldn't defend themselves. 

Wells looks over the bodies, eyeing the stitching, the fur and the weapons, calculating. "Looks like people survived the end of the world. Strip them of their clothing, gut them and leave them for the wolves. Toss them down the ravine, we don't need any friend of theirs finding out they come this way."

"Miller, Murphy, take their packs and weapons." Clarke's voice is directive in the wake of what they' done. "Octavia I need the water flask from your bag." Wells and Monty continue to keep watch now that everything's been decided, Monty's face pale as he stares at the dead men.

"What do we tell the others?" Wells voice is low and deep, he sounds so much older that they are. 

"They were attacking a girl, we did what anyone of us would have." Clarke's voice is stern like her mother's was when calming a patient. Authoritative yet soft. "We stopped the attack."

Wells looks conflicted, dark eyes swirling with emotions they all feel. The only one to speak it. "Three people are dead Clarke."

"You saw what they were doing Wells." Her eyes are hard, fighting against everything Wells was insinuating and questioning.

"Clarke." His voice is low, as much a warning as a question.

"Don't tell me they didn't need to die." Monty ignores them, while Murphy is busy stripping the bodies, Octavia helping him as Miller drags a body to the ravine's edge. "We have to protect ourselves and her."

"By killing?"

"You're one to talk." Clarke snarls.

Face twisting Wells sighs like his chest in caving in. "Clarke."

"No Wells, I don't need your dad's parroted words, I need  _you."_ She stares him down, fierce and full of challenge and hatred. "I hate you, but you're smart and I need you."

He pulls in a deep shuddering breath before nodding. "Okay, we tell the truth."

Clarke cleans off the girl's face, wrapping cloth around bleeding wounds before tilting her chin. Wells easily bends down, picking the girl up. They head back to camp, trekking the three miles in near silence. Monty grabbing a few things with Murphy and Miller carrying new weapons, clothing and the supplies from the men. Octavia twirls a new sword in her hand, better crafted than their own. Her grin is wide and proud, there's blood and mud smeared across her face. Leaving streaks across the bridge of her nose and nearly across her eyes, its looks like warpaint. Like a warning.

The suns creeping higher in the sky as they follow nearly invisible markers, unneeded with the familiar way home. They come to the gate, easily seen for the last quarter mile and it opens to show the entire camp crowding around it. The camp stares at them as they come in before swarming them, shouting to be heard over one another. "Quiet, there were three men." Clarke spits out the words. "Attacking her, we saved her."

"Does that mean people are on the ground?" Finn shifts nervously, curious yet terrified. There is a collective murmur of shock and fear and the crowd looks to each other, searching for safety and knowledge. They find it in Clarke's steady gaze.

Clarke stares everyone down, searching their faces and finding not disgust but shock and some trepidation. "Yes, somehow people survived, people live on the ground."

Finn snorts out a disbelieving sound, not loud but enough to gain the attention of some of the others. "Grounders on the ground." His eyes wide with awe and his body practically vibrating with excitement.

Wells steps forward, letting Miller and Murphy hold the girl, steady and easily drawing all the attention from the girl to himself. "We need to be vigilant, they have more experience than us. We must be cautious on our hunts and the fence still needs work. Patrols need to be scheduled."

Bellamy steps forward, broad shouldered and trembling with rage that barely hides his terror. "They'll think us weak if they stumble upon us, we'll show them we aren't. Training is doubled, everyone, not just the guard trains. There's only sixty-nine of us, we rely on one another. The Ark sent all of us here to die, we won't. We will live and show them what were made of. Grounder, Arker, we're not them. We aren't the expendable waste from space. We all lived in the Sky-box. We all fell. Not all of us lived but we will survive." The crowd rally behind him, screaming their agreement. Half of them just screaming to go with the crowd, half of them trembling and hiding behind each other.

Raven grits her teeth, crutching her way through the crowd, knocking her crutches into ankles when they get in the way. "We may not be them, but we'll need the Ark tech if the grounder decide on retaliation for killing their friends. Communications is still down, the wrists bands only work for about fifteen of us, most of the circuits fried during the crash. Leave the damn things on or else i'll chop your wrist off where the working one was, got it?" She gets shaky nods. "Good, I've got more explosives to build, we may need them." She crutches her way back into the drop ship where Myles follows after her, his own crutches clicking against the metal. 

Wells and Clarke follow after them, moving to medical instead of Raven's workshop, Wells carrying the girl. The water room is full, filtering the water easily, Raven's newest invention. Miller and Murphy deposit the supplies in the upper deck of the drop-ship. Filtering through the new stuff and claiming what they want from the supplies taken from the men.

The girl murmurs in a garbling voice from where she sits on the cot. "What's she saying?" Wells murmurs curiously.

"Gibberish." Octavia stands beside them, watching Clarke and the girl with a childlike curiosity.

"No, the men were speaking something like it. Its a language, not English. " Clarke speaks softly. "Probably her people's language." Clarke begins to strip her, Wells grabbing supplies as Octavia helps. Monty stays near, listening and learning from Clarke. 

Clarke dumps Monty and Jasper's fresh moonshine on some of her wounds as Octavia shoves a bite stick in the girls mouth so she won't bite her tongue off if she wakes up. She remains unconscious and Clarke begins to stitch up the girls wounds with the 'catgut' stitches. The girl doesn't come to until Clarke is wiping at her face and when she does, she moves like a snake. Kicking Wells in the chest, sending him backwards into the supplies as an elbow hits Octavia in the solar plexus, sending her gasping to the ground and then a knee hitting Monty as she twists and slams her head into Clarke's own. Spots dance across her vision and blood drips from Clarke's face. There is a shout and then Murphy and Miller are in the room, Bellamy throwing the curtain made of parachute open. Wells holds up his hands, the girl twitches slightly, eyes darting to the new people flooding the room. "What the hell is going on?" Bellamy's voice booms.

"Shut up." Clarke murmurs, pressing on her bleeding head. "I want everyone out who isn't learning to heal." She gets protests and barks out her orders. "Murphy now! Take Bellamy with you."

"I'm not leaving my sister here with the grounder."

"Bellamy." Clarke's voice is as sharp as her mother's when she is in an operating room. "Now. Your sister is fine. I need a friendly face."

Wells ducks out and its only a groaning Monty, Octavia and a bleeding Clarke. Clarke holds up her hands. "We're doctors, we're just trying to help you." Clarke holds out one of the wolf fur blankets, tilting her chin to the stitched wounds on the girl as her eyes stay trained to wild grey eyes.

The girl slowly grabs the fur, wrapping it around herself. Clarke keeps her hands raised in a calm manner. "I need to finish treating your wounds." She motions to the bleeding side wound hidden among the bruises.

The girl stiffen and Octavia laughs lowly, pointing to Clarke's head. "You might want to get your head fixed first, she split your forehead open."

"I'm fine." Clarke doesn't take her eyes off the girl. "She's hurt more."

Octavia rubs at the forming bruise in her skin, a grin on her face. "She moved good for someone we brought in unconscious."

"Octavia." Clarke warns.

Octavia scoffs, grin still splitting her face. "What? She fought back better than the three that had her did."

The girl eyes Octavia's new sword on her back before she relaxes back, meeting Clarke's eyes. Clarke steps close, grabbing the needle and rubbing at the girls wound with moonshine cloth. "This will burn." The girl makes no noise and Clarke begins stitching her. She makes no noise despite how much it has to hurt. "O, get her some clothes from the upper deck. Monty go get her some food from the storage." They both head to the upper deck where everything important is kept. "I promise we won't hurt you." The girl looks no older than Clarke, maybe by a year or two but her face is a mass of bruising and cuts. "The people who did this to you are dead, they can't hurt you anymore." The girl makes no sound and Clarke grabs a lumpy bucket. "Wait here." She heads to the next room, using the long tube to pump water into the bucket. She comes back into the medical room, yelling for Atom to grabs some coals from where he scrubs the dishes in hot water. The boy does as told, ambling in with a flat metal thing full of hot coals, she sets the bucket on it, letting the water heat. They wait and Monty and Octavia come back down carrying supplies.

"I found what I could in her size." Octavia drops all the stuff on the table. "If she wants her clothes back i'll get Diego to wash them. It's his week for clothes."

Monty sets the dried meat and fruit and nuts down by the girl. "Sorry its not fresh, we're getting ready for winter."

The girl eyes them all and Clarke sighs. "Go see what the others need done." The two scramble away at her order and Clarke sets a cup of water on the coals, placing dried seaweed into it before she grabs some seaweed paste. "It's to stop infection." There's a heavy hint of wild garlic as she opens the jar and the girl scowls but nods. Clarke sets it beside her before offering the girl the mug with a cloth tucked around it.

"Drein daun." The girl murmurs before chugging it in one go, wincing. "Mochof." She murmurs quietly. 

Clarke nods before dipping a rag into the warmed water and offering it to the girl. She gets the hint, grabbing the cloth and wiping her self down. Clarke turns around giving the girl privacy before she hears a throat clearing. Dirty undergarments are laying on the floor and the girl has the spare ones Octavia brought. Clarke hooks the soft sports bra with no arm straps behind the girl before, with a nod, she rubs the garlic seaweed concoction onto the stitched and open wounds. She wraps them with the sterile cloths that had been soaked in moonshine and dried. The girl winces and then she twitches before stilling. Clarke gently sets the shirt over her shoulders and then helps her into the pants. Clarke kneels down, sliding socks on the girl before tying the boots on. Clarke steps back, chewing on her lip. "You can stay here until you are better." Clarke furrows her brows. "I'd feel better as a doctor if you wait to heal first." The girl stares at her like Clarke is an enigma. "Right, no English." Clarke brushes her hair from her face, wincing as her wrist brushes across the dried wound on her fore head. The girl ducks her head but Clarke shrugs. "It's okay. We all fight to survive." Clarke grabs moonshine, dumping some on a cloth before wiping at her head, she winces in pain, rubbing the salve on it and letting it dry, stopping the flow of blood.

Clarke stands and the girl stiffens, Clarke furrows her brow in thought and then Murphy ducks his head in, the bloods dried across the bridge of his nose and forehead. Stark against the paleness of his face. It's flaking, dried and more brown than red now. "Bellamy's calling a council meeting."

Clarke rubs at her head, wincing like she forgot the wound was there once again. "And?"

Murphy scoffs, sneering out in the way he was wont to do for the rest of his life. "You're a member Princess, gotta go."

Her shoulders slump in defeat and she murmurs out tiredly. "Why do we need one?"

"The grounder." His eyes dart to the girl who has been watching Murphy since he entered. "Bellamy wants her gone."

Rage fills Clarke and she snarls."Bellamy can float himself, she _needed_ help."

Murphy smirks. "Not saying she didn't, but he wants to raise defenses." His jaw twitches and he looks more put out by what hes about to say than killing the man this morning. "Wants her dead or out before she can learn our secrets."

"She doesn't speak English." Clarke twists her hands together, barely refraining from yanking at her hair in frustration. "She stays until she is better."

Murphy stares at her, curious and guard, his shoulders so thin he doesn't look like the boy who helped save the girl this morning. "Why?"

"No one deserve the cruelty of the world."

Murphy swallows, eyes wild, body trembling and now. Now he looks like the wolf they'd corned that night. Like there was enemies on every side. "Blake sounds like the Ark."

"He was a guard for a while."

Murphy sneers, still trembling in rage. "And he's the oldest, Ark adults can float themselves."

"He has hope Murphy." Clarke pinches her nose, leaning back against the wall. So very tired and sick of all the politics. Sick of the Ark being brought up and sick of how much some kids reminded her of them. How very much some of them sounded like their parents, how Wells sometimes parroted his father words adn how much Bellamy reminded her of the guards. "He's not exactly like them."

Murphy scoffs this time, hair falling in his face, his eyes dart to the girl as she eases back away from him and that makes him relax his stance, stilling his trembling and harsh breaths. "Hes scared of her so he wants her dead."

"Then we don't let him kill her, we're not the Ark." She steps froward, imploring and captivating in her conviction. "We can better here."

"Tell the others that then."

Clarke lets out a tired sigh and nods, coming to a conclusion. "I need Miller on her, she's not a prisoner but I don't want one of the older guard getting an idea with Bellamy's words."

Murphy searches her face before hips lips twist into a grin, his nose crinkling with it. "Got it Princess."

Clarke sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose before she turns to the girl. "I promise nothing will happen to you." The girl is tense but relaxes under Clarke's gaze. Not understanding the words but the fierceness in her eyes and the set of her shoulders and chin. "I'll be back." Clarke motions to the food, giving a small smile that looks bone weary on her fourteen year old face.

"Kill her or kick her out." Bellamy's voice is loud, gaining all the attention as Clarke comes out of the drop-ship, leaving Miller to watch the girl. "She's dangerous, just like the other three grounders."

"No, they were attacking her. She's a kid like us." Octavia voice is angry and she glares at her brother with every bit of rage that fills her tiny body.

Bellamy scowls at her, eyes hard. "O, you don't know what you're talking about, shes dangerous." He jerks his arm towards his sister. "She attacked you in there."

"You're just sacred, you're always scared!" Octavia is loud, the entire camp is there except for Miller and the guards on wall duty. "You can't kill people because you're scared."

"But you can?" He steps forward, tall and imposing. The largest and oldest in the entire camp. "You're thirteen O, you shouldn't have killed a man."

"He was attacking that girl!" She stands chest to chest with him, seemingly as large as he is with her fierce determination. "Now you're telling me we should kill her. What's your problem Bellamy? You don't want me to kill but you can?"

Bellamy grits his teeth and his voice echoes fro everyone to hear. "She's _dangerous."_

"ENOUGH!" Clarke yells, gaining attention. "We do this together, no yelling. I want votes now before we decide anything. Whose with Bellamy? Who wants to kill a girl we saved? A girl that is exactly like us, attacked by the adults of her society? Imprisoned by them?" The older five raise their hands, rallying behind Bellamy. Bellamy scoffs, glaring at the younger of the hundred. "Who wants the girl to leave? Who wants to send an injured girl out into the forest where wolves roam at night?" Fifteen people raise their hands, cautiously. Eyes darting between Bellamy and Clarke. "Who votes for the girl to stay until she heals? To use our resources as she stays here?" Thirty people raise their hands, chins tilted high in defiance while some of them, like Fox, keep their shoulders hunched, chins down but arm high. Clarke lets out a low sigh, looking around. "Some of you didn't vote."

"She could stay with us." Finn speaks quietly, voicing what the others had thought. "She's lost, beaten. If she wants she can stay." He looks around. "Right?"

Wells perks up, searching faces before nodding. "It is an option, who votes that way?" The remaining raise their hands and there is complete silence until Wells continues. "Then its settled, she stays until she is better. We can have a re-vote if necessary later on."

"This is bullshit!" One of Bellamy's followers yell, shoving his way forward, trying to gain attention. 

"Everyone voted!" Octavia screams, shoving him back. Bellamy reaches for her and she shoves him back too, glaring. "Everyone had a say, better than the Ark ruling with an iron fist. We all had a say, we can't complain about it."

Bellamy shakes his head, arm still stretched out to reach for his sister. "She'll kill all of us, bring the grounder's to us."

"You need to stop being scared Bellamy Blake." Raven is leaning on her crutches from where she stands by Finn. "You're acting on your fear like the council did when they sent us down here." She speaks so everyone can hear, not yelling but steady with a tone that pulls you in. "You aren't like them are you?"

His teeth bare and his face twists in anguish and anger. "They  _floated_  my mother."

"Then quit trying to protect yourself and your sister and think of everyone else, including the girl your sister saved from men like the Ark. We are not them." The meeting quiets and then everyone is dispersing, heading to their positions again to finish what they were doing. 

"I'm still training everyone, if we get attacked."

"You'll be ready, got it Guardsmen Blake." Raven snarks.

He flinches back, face going white. "Hey, i'm not."

Ravens tares at him, gaze penetrating. "You're acting like it."

He bows his head, swallowing. "Okay. I get it."

The fifteen year old mechanic nods, easily navigating back to her work shop, Clarke and Myles right behind her. Raven and Myles head to her workshop and Clarke walks back into the medical room, Wells and Monty behind her. She opens the curtain, Miller looks up from where he's tapping his feet on the floor, back against the wall and butt on the floor as well. He flushes. "She was really tense, I thought if I sat down she'd relax."

Clarke smiles, holding a hand to help the boy get to his feet. "Good, compassion is better than cruelty."

He rubs at the back of his neck. "I'm gonna go back out with Murphy to hunt, we didn't get any game earlier."

The girl eyes them all and Clarke keeps her in her peripherals, hoping she won't bolt or freak out with everyone in here. "Take Finn and Atom, Finn will help track. Grab Dax on your way out, we need some more water if you guys have time."

"Got it." He looks to Wells and Monty. "You guys coming to gather your stuff?"

Wells nods. "I'll be there in a minute. I'll grab Octavia on the way out, she needs to clear her head before she snaps at Bellamy again."

Monty follows after Miller and Wells stares at Clarke. "We did good Clarke."

She flinches back, snapping at him in a way that aches. "There is no we."

Wells winces, ducking his head. "Not you and I, us and the others. Its was." He furrows his brows. "Better than I thought. It worked."

"As long as Bellamy keeps his cool, he can twist words to gather followers." She pinches her nose again, feeling far older than her 14 years. And so very tired. Was thins why her mother looks so haggard after council meetings? "Especially with the older ones."

"Yeah, but you show them whats right." He grins in his earnest way and they've forgotten about the girl, forgotten her in her silence and their argument. "Plus You've got your own followers, as does Raven and I. We outnumber the older ones at least ten to one. We'll be fine."

"Yeah."

Wells leaves, taking his cue and the girl watches him go before her eyes flicker back to Clarke. Clarke begins to clean up, organizing the supplies that she had used today. Wells will find more garlic and Monty has already started stowing a bunch of plants to use when winter breaks, build their own garden. The girl is still wary of Clarke, watching her every move, tense until Clarke sits down like Miller had.

Clarke takes a sip of the canteen, offering it to the girl who slowly takes it, drinking a soft gulp before she decides better and swallows half the canteen, Clarke grins bitter sweetly. "I'm sorry we didn't find you sooner, we didn't know anyone else was on Earth." Clarke tilts her head back against the wall, looking at the watch on her wrist. Her wrist band is already gone, Monty and Raven attempting to use Octavia's to communicate before it shorted and took a third of the others with it, including Clarke's and Wells. The thought that her mother thinks she's dead kills her just a little bit, but she feels vindicated that Chancellor Jaha will face the same loss.

The sun begins to set and both of them have been dozing off with a shout sounds through the camp. The girl jerks awake to sit up on the cot and Clarke stand tilting her head before rising. "Come on, dinner will be cooking, I heard Murphy's yell."

* * *

 

The girl cautiously follows Clarke out, looking around camp, eyes slightly widening at the lack of adults, lack of seasoned warriors. It is a combination of goufa, at least ten of them under ten summers, there are six above sixteen summers and the rest are a scatter between eleven and fifteen summers, the most plentiful age group. Yet they thrive. Pelts of animals dry above the metal contraption, meat is being smoked in one building and their walls around the camp are a mix of stone, metal and wood. Tall and ominous. They chatter like goufa, loud and all smiles. Some quiet when the blonde walks the injured girl to the fire, but the ones that saved her smile at her, sitting in a circle around her. A few others sit with them, chattering still. They look to the oldest man, the healer, a the dark skinned herbalist and the girl with a contraption on her leg, for guidance, like they are all their generals. Like they are their hedas. She furrows her brow in confusion but takes the offered wooden plate. It is crooked and crafted more for its use than looks, she shares that plate between the others sitting near her, looking around she notices that many of them do the same, splitting a large plate of meat between them.

A water flask is passed around, heavy with a fruity water, the water mixed with the sweet berries of the rocky mountain sides looming over them. Their metal home is nestled in it, the rock curving around it like a coat. Her grey eyes dart around, taking in everything. They are so very young and innocent, yet there is a haunted anger in their eyes. What had they done to be here? Why were there so many children and why were words carved into the side of their metal building, gleaming against the fire and shadows? The chatter is endless and the young warriors switch, those that have eaten heading to switch with those on the wall. Howls echo through the night but they all ignore them, safe inside the walls. 

* * *

* * *

* * *

The grounder stays with them two weeks, learning all about them before she point to the fence. " Ai gau."

"You're going?" Well furrows his brow, looking to Clarke then to the girl like Clarke could understand her even now.

"Sha. Ai gau." Clarke nods in understanding, the moon bright in the night as they listen to the girl, her gibberish slowly morphing in short phrases they could understand over the last few weeks.  "Thri natshana ai kom op." She points to the full moon in the sky, holding up three fingers.

Clarke nods again, smile trembling and worry set deep in her eyes. "In the morning." The girl nods and heads back to the drop-ship, the younger kids trailing after her, their hair braided back by the grounders nimble fingers that morning. Small beads and feathers tangled within the braids much like the grounders own dark hair. Octavia grins from her perch, her own dark hair pulled back in tight braids, her new sword still gleaming on her back.

Morning comes and Murphy hands the grounder the clothing she arrived in and she changes in the drop-ship before coming back out. They press a flask of water and some rations into her hand. Octavia walks out of the drop-ship, pressing a gnarly looking sword into her hands, smiling wildly. "Come back soon." She drops a knife in there too.

The girl smiles at them, face no longer bruised and her eyes once again bright with life. "Thri natshana."

"Three moons." Wells says quietly, like a promise. "Three months."

"Winter will be over by then." Finn says softly, curious and nervous.

The remaining children shift, smiling at the girl, patting her shoulder and wishing her well before heading back to their duties. Finn presses a twisted piece of metal into her hands. She turns it over, looking at the wolf in her hands, its jaw open in a howl. He shrugs, ducking his head, face flushing. Raven smiles, pulling out something on her neck. It is a bird, mid-flight. "Guess you're his new best friend." The grounder furrows her brow but nods.

Murphy shoves a jacket at her, one of their own, thick with a wolf pelt stitched to the inside. She shake her head and he presses it into her finger, scowling at her. "It's cold. Take it." He slips away quickly, hands pressed deep in his jacket pockets, eyes dark and lost.

The younger goufa stare at her, lips trembling before they press fingers to her side, hands and hips, mumbling in soft voices before they take off back to the drop-ship, braids thumping against their shoulders and temples. Bellamy nods his head but turns around back to his post. Miller grins, stepping forward and pressing a whistle into her hands. It is thin and wooden, made by Fox who ducks her head, hunching her too thin shoulders until she can barely make out the girl among the others. Always so shy. Clarke steps forward, pressing a small bag into her hands. Opening it she finds salve, the thread for stitches and a needle, a small bottle of moonshine and bandages.

Before she can leave they shove her over to the fire and they all have one last meal before she heads to the gate, Wells, soft eyes and even softer smile presses a small metal piece and a small thin metal rod into her hand. She had seen them using them to make fire, far easier than the small rocks and sometimes sticks they had mastered in her home village. She tucks it into her pack. "Moch of." Her voice echos and she gets grins from most of the camp, friendly when most would be wary. They watch her walk out of the gate and disappear into the rocky mountain side.

* * *

* * *

* * *

When she gets back into Trikru territory she fingers the trinkets they had tucked into her hands. Finn's wolf, crafted just for her, Fox's whistle, painstakingly cut from strong reed, Murphy's coat she knows he had worked hard over. Wells fire-starters, a necessity in the wild, Clarke's healers kit, prepared just for her. These invaders took her in when Azgeda tried to take her away, took her right from under Nia's nose, when the kidnappers decided to sneak through Blue Cliffs land despite Nia's orders to continue through Trikru. Their bodies gone to the wolves never to hear from again. The journey back to Trikru territory took three days on foot, yet she did not run out of supplies. They had given her more than she needed, too kind when others would ration their provisions.

There are harsh words spoken in the dark forest and she climbs into the trees, knowing how bad Azgeda are at it. Waiting she hears a familiar voice, harsh with anger and regret. Grinning she drops from the trees into the middle of the group of twelve warriors. They start, pulling their sword. She just grins at them. "Onya." Her voice is teasing and happy.

The woman in front of her stares opened mouth before surging forward, fingers pressing into her cheeks, searching the scars there, looking for lasting damage. "Kostia." Her breathless whisper as sags with relief. " _Where have you been?"_


	3. Chapter 3

_The ARK- Hours after the drop-ship launch_

"How's it looking Abby?"

Abby darts her eyes from the Chancellor, from the man who had been her friend for nearly three decades, the man who ordered her daughter sent to the ground to the screens in front of her. "Of the hundred wristbands only fifteen remain active."

Jaha stares at the screen, face stonic as he searches the pictures and the lack of life. "Radiation?"

"No, nearly 70% of the wristbands went out when communications to the drops-ship went out. It had to be from the ship crashing, Sinclair said an immediate impact warning sounded right before the lights went out on the bands. Something went wrong when they landed."

Jaha crosses his arms, leaning back and searching all of the monitors, half of it maps, jargon and pictures he can't comprehend. "Do we have a location?"

Sinclair looks up from his own computer, eyes hard. "We've got a hundred mile radius of a possible landing site."

"Did they land by Mount Weather?"

Sinclair brings up a map on the screen, a blue circle on the screens, nearly 90 percent of it mountainous with a little red dot far from the edge of the circle. "No, the edge of the radius is about fifty miles off from Mt. Weather."

Jaha stares at the screen, at the darkness surrounding his son's picture. The last image of his son one of a quiet fear and determination. His lip is split from fighting the guards at his arrest. His shoulders too broad and his face too young. "What went wrong?"

Sinclair shifts in his seat, fighting the urge to stand and shout. The urge to throw things and demand to know what Jaha was thinking. "The drop-ship is a hundred years old, something could have slipped by in inspection. A bad parachute, a cut in the wires or a clog in the fuel lines." Sinclair's face is twisted into barely controlled rage. "You didn't exactly give the engineers or mechanics much time to check out the drop-ship."

Jaha narrows his eyes. "We couldn't have them wondering why we were giving a more thorough inspection to one of the drop-ships than normal. Until we find out the ground is survivable the populous must be kept in the dark."

"And that secrecy may have killed eighty of our people. Eighty _children."_ Dark eyes bore daggers into the chancellor, refusing to back down and Abby keeps silent in the background, tears in her eyes. 

"They committed crimes." And Jaha's voice is hard, eyes narrowed at the insolence the Chief Engineer is showing him. "They were set to be floated when they turned 18."

"Half of them had more than four years before they turned 18!" And Sinclair breaks, yelling his frustrations out, Abby and Chancellor Jaha the only ones there to see. "They could have been pardoned."

"That is four years of oxygen that they would have burned up. You read the report Jake Griffin made before his death, you understand the danger it presents. The danger keeping 100 criminals puts on our oxygen intake."

"We have roughly four years before it becomes irreversible, I can fix it!" He stands, the chair rolling out from under him as he jerks his hand towards the screen. "Raven Reyes could have fixed it and you sent her to the ground."

"Enough." Where Sinclair is fire and burning hate, Jaha is the calm cold air, the heavy pressing weight of the darkness of space. "If the fifteen survive then we know the ground is hospitable and we will follow them down."

"And if they don't?"

"Then they sacrificed themselves for the greater good." He stares at them both, gauging their desperation, their loyalties. "Find me results Sinclair, I want you on the oxygen problem as well as the drop-ships. We don't want them to go off course like the prisoner's did."

Sinclair looks up sharply. "Where will we land?"

"As close to Mt. Weather as we can get." He stares at the screen, the map that holds the place his son died. The last resting place of Wells, and he want to land there, find his son's body and give it a funeral right, but the survival of nearly three thousand people outweighed the want of his heart. "And keep quiet, we do not want mass panic or hysteria in the masses. That's an order from your Chancellor." The threat is there, heavy in the air.

Abby barely keeps the rage from her face, calm where others would not have been. "What do we tell them about the Skye-box?"

"Quarantine for now, until we come up with a better solution." He leaves after that and Sinclair throws a remote across the room, eyes wild.

"Jacapo." Abby's reaches for him, soft and quiet.

He shakes his head. "He threw them away Abby, _children."_

"I know." Her voice sharpen and her eyes are haunted. "My daughter was one of them." They both look to the board, to the mass amount of shadowed pictures and the scattered fifteen lights on the screens. To the screen that holds Clarke's young face, chin tilted in challenge at the screen. The lack of vital signs and shadowed photo making them both ache. Raven Reyes picture a glowing beacon in the dark, a smirk forever plastered on her face, dark eyes dangerous.

Sinclair continues looking at it, noting the channel each wristband is on. He lets out a sigh of relief, closing his eyes and running calculations before he speaks. Praying to all the deities out there that he doesn't give false hope. "Abby, look to the lower corner of each picture, the wristband circuit color."

She stares at them, darting from picture to picture before landing on Clarke's last, the green under her picture dull and near lifeless, before slumping against her chair. "Only the blue is active, though five of the blue are inactive."

Sinclair nods, hope in his eyes. "They're on five different circuits, didn't want them to get over heated or too much input. I split them into groups of 5, twenty for each circuit. The blue is the only circuit active." And there is a new fire in his blood, burning and bright hope instead of dark hatred.

"Five of the blue are dark."

"Then they have to actually be dead, but the others, the ones that went out all at once, they could still be alive as well." And he watches a desperate hope seem to bloom in Abby. How it slowly brings color back to her cheeks and life to her eyes. How she seems to come back from the dead, and he hopes and prays that he is right, that they are alive down there.

Abby stands quickly, flipping through the screens and the paperwork, the schematics on the wristbands. "Can you manually override them? Bring them back online?"

"No, they must have fried when the ship crashed." He grabs the schematic from her, showing where it was rerouted through the drop-ship to boost the signal. "Communications are down, nearly everything electronic is fried on the ship. The only reading I managed to get before it all went dark was the fuel gauge, it was two-thirds full. The rockets must not have deployed correctly. They hit the ground too fast, re-entry must have burned up the communications."

"So there's hope?"

He grins at her. "There's hope, and knowing Raven, she'll figure something out."

Abby falls back into her chair, hands in her hair and chest fluttering, her lips and hands tremble. "Okay, if they can handle that then we need to handle the oxygen. I know we have four years left but that's four years of low oxygen, people are already showing signs. If we're going to follow them down, we need our people at their best."

"Population is too great, it's putting a strain on the systems." He pulls up the oxygen levels of the Ark, of each station. "We weren't suppose to be up here with this many people. Without the thirteenth station there is too much strain on the systems, each station over compensating for the lost one."

"Polaris is a myth Jacapo, meant to scare children into behaving."

He shakes his head. "No, it's not. I searched all the databases, it was scrubbed from our system, the dark secret of the Ark." He pulls out a flash drive, and he knows this could get him killed, this hidden secret of the Ark. That showing this to Abby could kill him, but she was no longer loyal to Jaha, wouldn't spill his secret where she had once spilled her husband's and begged for mercy. "Alpha station's main regret, I found it. We call it unity, celebrate that the twelve stations came together after the thirteenth one was destroyed, what they don't tell us is that we destroyed it. Our ancestors caused this strain on our systems all those years ago."

"So what can we do?" She pulls up the medical files of the Ark, of each citizen. "How do we fix this?"

He pulls the Mecha station schematic up on her screen. "The Chancellor will choose to float 300 people to take the strain off the systems, but if we can isolate Mecha Station, which produces the most carbon dioxide and connect it's venting system to Farm Station we may buy a couple more months of high oxygen. The plants in there could theoretically take in all the carbon dioxide and produce enough oxygen to stave off the oxygen deprivation while also providing oxygen for the rest of the ship. Farm station has the highest oxygen level as do the stations directly connected to it."

"Mecha Station does have the worst of the symptoms, are you sure this could work?"

He chews on his lip but nods, taking the dive like he knew Raven would. "It's theoretical, but it's the best option we have, the only other option is for the Chancellor to cut off a section of the stations. Most likely the one housing the oldest of our people, or part of those in Arrow Station."

"Then let's try to save as many people as possible." In this moment she's as determined as her daughter, as stubborn as her daughter. "I'll send out an alert tonight about a virus, they'll close the vents which will stop the spread of Carbon dioxide to the rest of the Ark."

"Wait three days. I need to get farm station vents connected to Mecha, if I don't then all of Mecha will die from carbon dioxide toxicity within days if not hours."

Abby closes her eyes, pinching the bridge of her nose after setting the data-pad down. "Let's hope this works."

Sinclair reaches over, slipping his hand into Abby's and squeezing. "It has too."

* * *

* * *

* * *

* * *

 

_Lexa's room in Polis - Hours after Costia is kidnapped from Polis_

 

Lexa begins to throw thing around the room, tearing it apart. Her chest heaves in exertion and each movement is wild and jerky. Anya watches, jaw clenched. "Heda." The girl ignores the woman who had trained her, continuing to tear the room apart. "Leksa!"

Lexa turn wild green eyes to her. "She's gone." Her voice cracks in pain and then rage. "Someone took her!"

"Think, who would take her?" Anya keeps her distance, knows what this kind of rage does to a person, her own voice is calm, level even though rage burns through her as well. "Who had the opportunity?"

"One of the clan? The mountain!" Lexa stops throwing things for a single moment, hands tight on the scarf in her hands, the soft dark green one Costia had gotten her for her name day. "I know not, only that she is _gone."_ And the words catch in her chest, trembling out from her lips.

"Breathe and think, who prospers from this?"

"All the clans!" Lexa sets the scarf on the bed, still a mess from waking up that morning, Costia snoring next to her. She had left Costia to do her rounds around Polis, checking in with the refugees and the orphanage. Costia had been gone when she got back, her guard Galen as well. By mid-morning Galen's body had been found in the stables and Lexa had been notified. "Anyone who wants me gone and to fill Aden's head with their plans."

"Aden is barely nine."

"He is young but he is not the youngest to become commander, we know what happens to young commanders." Lexa throws another book across the room and she aches. "They want me gone because I want peace, I want my people to stop dying. They took Costia for this! Peace is not worth her life, I cannot lose her Onya. I _can't."_

"I know." Anya steps closer, cautiously, searching her Heda, her second's, face. "But we must be calm, we must think."

"You are never calm!" Lexa spits this out like an accusation. "You forge forward before a plan is made, you change battle plans in the middle of a war!" Lexa steps right up to Anya's face, shorter and barely sixteen summers but just as dangerous, a desperation darkness in her eyes and thick in her blood. "I need that person Anya, I need the first who led me to battle."

Anya grabs Lexa's shoulder, fingers tight. "No, you have Indra for that. Indra is impulsive, determined. Right now you need calm, you need to _think."_

Lexa shoves Anya back, forcing the 21 fall-born back despite her taller stronger statue. "I need to find her, you are preventing me from sending out my warriors." Lexa's face is twisted into a snarl, so very foreign on her young face.

"You send them out and leave Polis vulnerable." Anya shakes her head, sorrow in her eyes. "Leave yourself vulnerable, that it what they want."

Lexa throws a punch and Anya doesn't stop her. Lets the punch split her lip open, let Lexa's knuckles crack and split open across her face. Let's Lexa fight her until she sobs into Anya's chest, deep gulping sobs that shake her entire frame. Anya holds her close, closes her eyes and makes a vow as she squeezes Lexa tighter. "Keep Indra and Gustus close, keep working for peace Leksa. I will find Kostia, I will bring her back to you alive. This I swear to you, before all commanders, before all the spirits of the ground. I swear to bring your heart back to you."

Lexa jerks back, eyes wild and searching. "Onya you-"

Anya grabs Lexa by her cheeks, forcing her to look into her eyes before she lets go and drops to her knees, keeping eye contact with the young girl. "I give my oath." She grabs the knife from Lexa's waist and slices her left hand open. "My blood and if need be it my life. I swear by all the commanders past and future, by the old spirits and the new, I will bring Costia back to you." She then drags her bleeding palm across her face, leaving streaks of red to drip down her face.

Lexa drops to her knees, closes her eyes and cries. Anya holds her close, her blood staining the shirt Lexa wears. Anya will find Costia if it is the last thing she does, and if not she will tear the person who stole her from Lexa, limb from limb and leave their blood to soak the ground.

* * *

* * *

* * *

_The Forest in Trikru territory - Minutes after Costia finds Anya_

Anya leads her away from the others, out of hearing. Wild eyes desperate and so very tired. Her clothing is not Trikru, but the dark black and browns of an assassin. The warriors with her aren't large, they are lanky and have shadowed eyes, they wear no insignia nor tattoos. There are no scars, nothing distinguishing them from one another nor other clans. This was a group of people fighting to stay hidden and without ties to any clan. Costia stares at an Anya she can't recognize, an Anya with darkness in her eyes and not pride on her shoulders. There's a new scar across her lip, and another bisecting her left eyebrow and a long ropy one that stretches from the edge of her collar bone down to hide in her shirt. She is thinner than Costia remembers seeing her and the girl aches, if this was how Anya looks she can't imagine what Lexa looks like.

Anya, satisfied with finding no current injury to Costia, slips her hands over the girls elbows, squeezing gently in greeting. Her voice cracks and she looks more worn than ever. "What happened?"

"I was stolen, they took me from the stables."

"By who?" Her voice is a low growl and there's a rage deep in her eyes Costia had never seen before.

Costia's lips twitch, oh how she wants to tell Anya, wants to have the queen killed, but peace was more important than her life. Far more important than a war that would tear the attempts at a coalition apart. A war that may very well get Lexa killed and poor young Aden put in her place, the only nightblood found of the next generation. "It matters not."

"Yes it does." Anya's hand tightens on her elbow and Costia knows that Anya will kill the queen herself and get herself killed just to avenge Costia and protect Lexa. That Anya will take this burden on herself even it it means she dies. "The Commander will have their head."

"She needs to focus on the coalition." Costia grabs one of Anya's hands in hers, it trembles and the fingers are long, too thin and bloodied. Costia squeezes, knowing that Anya did things she'd never thought or wanted to do just to try and get to Costia, to save Costia and protect Lexa. That Anya had broken so many vows and became the very thing she swore not to. "Half the clans have joined already."

"For almost a moon you have been gone." There's a question there, wary and cautious. As if while Anya hunted for her captor that Costia was tortured just as Anya tortured people, that Anya wasn't quick enough to prevent Costia's pain. "Where?"

"Healing, my captors injured me before I was saved." Costia's chin is tilted high and Anya searches over her again, finding the small scars that show her face had been hit, the little thin scar at her neck that hints at a knife held to it. The slight crooked bend to her left fingers that alludes to them once being broken.

A dark rage bleeds from Anya but she controls it, breathing shallowly. "Who saved you?"

"It matters not."

"The Commander will thank them personally."

"They do not want it." Costia stares defiantly at Anya and Anya wants to shake her, wants to know who found Costia when Anya had scoured all the clans, all the trade posts. How had they found her when Anya had been torturing men and women, peeling their skin off their bodies and demanding information on Costia. How they had found her when Anya had done everything in her power. How they had succeeded when Anya had failed.

"We ride for Polis in the morning." Anya steps back, slowly, eyes never leaving Costia. "You and I with two guards on horseback. Do not argue."

Costia shakes her head and lets her shoulders drop, exhaustion deep in her bones. "I missed her."

Anya's eyes are sad and she pulls Costia in for a hug, the girl is barely younger than Anya just six winters difference between them, but still so small, so young and full of love. "She missed you as well young one." Costia buries her face into the familiarity of Anya. Of the woman who was all the family Lexa had needed as a child in a city that had vied for her blood. Her attention. A city that held more treacherous people than the sands of the dead zone. Costia seeks comfort in the woman who was more sister than mentor. "How long have you been free?"

Costia presses her head further into Anya's chest, feeling the rise and fall and she want's Lexa's here too, for one selfish second she wishes Lexa had been here as well. "A half cycle."

"A half cycle?" Anya's voice is cautious but Costia can taste the relief, that Costia hadn't been tortured the near moon she'd been gone.

"I was healing."

Anya grunts low in her chest, pulling back from Costia and shaking her head. There's a relief there yet also disbelief, and Costia knows Anya will not sleep tonight, that she will sit vigil outside Costia's tent or by her bedside. Anya leads her to a small tent, furs thick and warm on the ground. "Reshop Kostia."

* * *

 

 

When she wakes in the morning Anya already has horses, borrowed from the next village over. She picks Costia up, placing her on the swiftest one, before climbing on her own. There are two guards with her, Ryder, older than Anya but just as loyal and the best with a bow and Loni, as young as Anya and a steady quiet presence. She is smaller than all of them there but quicker with her knives.They take off at a steady run, not pushing the horses too hard but setting a quick pace for Polis. If they kept up the pace and switch horses at a couple of Anya's villages then they will make it to Polis before the day ends.

And the day blurs, they stop to eat once and then switch horses three times, each time Ryder and Loni are flanked at Costia's side, Anya always watching, always looking to Costia and never leaving her alone. Excitement and trepidation brewing in Costia's chest. She had been gone almost an entire moon cycle, gone from her love.

As the sun bleeds through the sky, slowing coming to dark Polis comes into view and her heart aches for the home she had been taken from. It may be full of snakes vying for Lexa's attention, approval and her death but it was home. The thick books hidden in Titus' office, the rooms high in the tower with no windows, the fighting pits covered in blood and mud with warriors who didn't know the meaning of mercy. Aden, the young nightblood who looked to Lexa for guidance and approval. Who was ever so loyal and curious and dutiful. They dismount when they make it through the gates, the guards having glared at Anya until they saw who they really were. Until they recognized them, and the guards on the wall stare at Costia like she is back from the dead. Like they never thought to see their Heda's beloved again. The warriors at the tower have the same look as Anya leads her to the throne room. Titus is speaking, near shouting before Anya throws the doors open, forgoing protocol.

Lexa stills, not moving as she looks to Anya before spotting Costia right behind her shoulder. Green eyes search over Costia, she never breaks her gaze as the entire room silences. "Leave us." Her words are harsh and everyone files out, Titus darting quick relieved eyes at Costia on the way out. Anya dips her chin and Lexa stares at her, there is no one else sans the three of them and Lexa can't decide if she wants to hug Anya or fall to Costia's feet. She swallows thickly, staring right at Anya. "Ai- Anya." There's a quiet before the words seem to flutter from her mouth, barely loud enough to hear. "Moch of." And the words may be simple but the emotions are thick.

"Pro Leksa." Anya shoulder's drop, the tension leaving her muscle as if the second Costia was in the same room with Lexa Costia's survival become a reality and not just a wayward hope. Anya touches Costia's elbow gently before leaving, the door creaks shut behind her and they are alone.

"I thought you dead." Lexa voice is hoarse and green eyes are bright with tears.

Costia steps close, grinning. "Never." 

Lexa looks up, tears in her eyes, Heda mask breaking before she throws herself at Costia, clinging to her. Chin over her shoulder and arms slung around her waist. "A moon cycle."

Costia clings to her just as fiercely, pressing kisses to her cheeks, her ears, any piece of Lexa she can find. Lexa clings to her, grip bruising but they are back together. They are alive. "I missed you."

"And I you." Lexa keeps her face pressed to Costia, trembling. Breathing in the scent of Costia, it is thick with dirt and sweat and horse, but it is Costia, it is not a dream. Not something her mind made up when she slept to comfort and torture her. Costia is real and here and alive. "What happened?"

Costia swallows, thick in her throat before she utters quietly. "I was stolen."

"Who?" It is more a growl than a question as Lexa pulls back, darkness swirling through her eyes. A dark promise in her voice. She looks as vicious as a wild animal, the deadly promise to those that took and hurt what is close to her.

Costia presses fingers into the girl's face, she barely looks her sixteen summers under all the stress lines and the dark paint on her face. Paint that has smear across the bridge of her nose and smears down her cheeks like tears. "It matters not."

Lexa shake's her head, the rage bleeding to fear. "They will come."

"And they will die when they do." Costia presses a swift fleeting kiss to Lexa's lips, they are bitten with worry and Costia presses her forehead against Lexa's, as close as they can be. "Your plan matters. Your peace matters and you can't go to war."

Lexa lets out a soft huff of air, fluttering against Costia's face before she murmurs quietly, reverently. _"You_ matter."

Costia closes her eyes, knows that she would let the world bleed if it meant saving Lexa, knows that she has that option because she is just a girl, she is not the commander, she does not have the responsibility of dealing with clans and their disputes. "I know, but absolute peace, you can achieve what no other has."

"Not at the cost of you." Lexa is near begging, fingers still tight across Costia's back. "Never you."

"I will live. I promise this to you."

"You can't promise life or death." And Lexa's voice cracks like the ice atop a river, loud and heavy with fear in the quiet.

"I can." Costia's grin is reckless, and she presses a kiss to the apple of each cheek before another to her forehead then to Lexa's lips. The dark warpaint smears across her lips and she smiles, gentle now before she presses another kiss to her beloved's lips and feels the tremble in Lexa's reed thin body. "The spirits could not take me away from you if they tried. I will always be at your side. Always. I love you Leksa."

Lexa bows her head against Costia's and closes her eyes, lets the comfort bleed into her and take the anguish and fear that had haunted her all those days and nights. "I love you Costia, as long as the stars shine and long after my heart stops."

* * *

 

Lexa sits in the bed, Costia's head pillowed in her lap, hair loose and still wet from her bath. Lexa's fingers card through it, gentle of any knots in the thick curls. She watches each rise of Costia's chest like she will stop and Lexa waits to wake up. Waits to wake up alone in bed with anguish in her heart. She waits for the spirits to take Costia away from her and she prays to all the spirits that if this is a dream she does not wake up.

There is a knock on the door before it opens slow, Anya's face is clean, washed and bathed just as Costia had been. She looks like she was the one stolen and held prisoner, more worn than Costia. More haggard. "Heda"

"Onya." Lexa looks up to were her most trusted general, her mentor, the woman who brought Costia back to her alive, stands. "Did she tell you anything?"

"Probably much less than you." Anya's voice is resigned and Lexa stands, watching Costia before she steps out of the room. Gustus nodding at her from where he moves into the room to take up station inside the room as Ryder takes station outside the room. Lexa moves to the map room, Anya at her heels. Her chest heaves and she shoves half finished maps off the table the second the door is shut and she is alone with Anya. "Heda."

"They stole her from Polis! A city of people meant to be loyal to me, a city of people fleeing wars." Lexa spins, throwing more things to the floor before she looks at Anya in a desperate bid for the woman to tell her everything will be alright, that Lexa shouldn't fear anymore. All she sees is the same resigned look that she'd seen in the mirror since Costia's disappearance. "Polis is meant to be safe! They took her from me!"

"I know Leksa."

"How do I stop them from doing it again?" The question is half choked between a sob and a yell. More emotion than Lexa had shown in a long while, and it is good that it is Anya here with Lexa instead of anyone else. Anya, who saw Lexa at her worst and still trusted her, Anya who held her after the conclave and stood by her decision to spare Luna. "How do I protect her?"

Anya's face is resigned, like she knows what Lexa can't see yet. "She wont let you double the guards, at least not after the first few days back and you can't stop her from going places."

"Then you, Indra or Gustus must be with her. You can be by her side when I am not."

Anya settles a hand on Lexa's shoulder. "Gus must be with you, Indra in Tondc and I have villages to care for." Lexa's face twists and Anya presses on, speaking before LExa's young mouth and rage can get ahead of her. "But Indra does have a nephew she's sent to me. He is loyal and strong, let him stay with Costia."

"Can he be trusted?"

"He is Indra's blood." Anya's lips twitch, an almost smile, but that is all, her eyes still remain haunted. "There is no more loyal than hers, no blood more strong than hers."

Lexa bows her head, closing her eyes in defeat. "Costia will not like this."

"No, but until she gives the name of who stole her it is a must."

Lexa drops her head to Anya's shoulder, taking comfort in the familiarity of her mentor, in the woman who is more family than any blood Lexa shares. "I almost lost her Onya."

Anya's fingers cradle the back of Lexa's head, the girl far too young to know such torment. "I know little one, I know." And they stand there, the moon filtering through the windows of the room, Anya closes her eyes and thanks all the spirits there are that Costia found her way home, that she was saved and that Lexa did not have to lose her. Anya closes her eyes and vows to repay those that saved Costia and kill those that dared harm her. 

* * *

* * *

 

Polis-One month after Costia's Return 

Costia closes her eyes and breathes in the sharp scent of the snowfall, it came later than last season but Polis is beautiful covered in white, soon the snow will be dark with smoke and mud. Soon the streets will be uncovered and life will continue, but for now the world is quiet. There's a small heat to her back and Costia leans back into Lexa. Lexa murmurs tiredly, having woken up when Costia got out of bed scant minutes ago. She's got a thick fur blanket pulled around her shoulder and thick socks, pants and long sleeve shirt on, yet still she shivers. Costia grins, pressing a kiss to Lexa's chilled cheek. "My love." Costia murmurs playfully.

"My heart." Lexa says quietly, slipping chilled arms around Costia to pull her into the cocoon of warmth. "You have no sock on, your feet will freeze."

Costia laughs, pressing her forehead to Lexa's temple, a cold ear presses into her face. "I am far more warm blooded than you, you have no fire in your core."

Lexa grumbles, shivering slightly. "I have plenty of fire."

Costia laughs, low and melodious. "Plenty of fire, you are a steady fire. Reliable and slow to anger but dangerous when stoked. You just lack the fire to warm your limbs in the cold."

Lexa shivers again, petulant. "You were born in the forest same as me."

"I was born into a snowstorm as high as a horse is tall, a winters child." Costia's laughter can almost be tastes and Lexa basks in the glory of it, in the warmth of Costia and the life in her. "You my dear Lex were born in a dry heat that burned that lands and dried the forests out, a true summer child."

* * *

 

Lexa watches from the high tower of Polis, watches Costia grin and twirl a short sword, little more than a long knife and duck away from the long sword and swipe of Indra's nephew. The boy would only grow larger, he was a spring child, as thick as the trees that grew after a harsh winter, a child who knew plentiful food and a loving family. His skin is slightly lighter than Indra's dark skin but he has the gentleness of his mother in him, the gentleness that Indra had grown up with. He heals as well as his mother once did, large hands soft and deft when healing and swift and deadly when fighting. His grin is a small thing, a twitch of his lips, as silent as the trees when he spars with Costia. Lexa can understand Anya's insistence at having Lincoln as Costia's guard. He is as loyal as Indra but gentler, he is hopeful like Costia and they will foster that hope in one another.

Lexa watches as they duck under one another and catches sight of a familiar figure. Anya is watching from the shadows across the street from the small arena, keeping an eye out and Lexa know the woman will leave soon, will need to go back to her villages and her warriors just as Indra has gone back to Tondc. Lexa stares at her first, she is still thin from the weeks on the hunt for Costia, her eyes are still haunted. Sometimes she blinks and Lexa will swear Anya has left the ground, that her spirit has flood to the stars and left her body standing alone, awaiting the flames that will send her chasing after her spirit to the skies. She doesn't know what Anya did during her search for Costia but she knows that more spies have flooded Polis, that the clans are weary in places they weren't before. She knows that the Plain Riders make their way to Polis, a white flag flying overhead. She knows the Ice Nation has tightened their borders and that Luna sent a few warriors to Anya during the hunt. Warriors that are already missing their tongues, warriors Luna has saved and trust to the ends of the world. Warriors that cannot speak of the things they did under Anya's orders.

* * *

* * *

* * *

_Polis - Three months after Costia's return_

 

Costia comes to Lexa with resignation in her eyes, just after winter falls. When the birds come back and the flowers begin to bloom and the trees gain their colors. "I must go on a trip."

The set to her chin is stubborn and Lexa sets down her book, dropping her crossed legs to the floor so she can stand from the couch she was sitting on. "Where."

"A secret." The guilt and determination in Costia's shoulder and furrow of her forehead give her away.

Patient, less prone to anger since Costia's return Lexa presses on gently. "Why?"

Costia fiddles with the wolf on her throat, it hangs there always, gleaming in the light. "The people that saved me, I must check on them."

"The trinkets." Lexa furrows her brow, remembering the bag Costia had been so gentle with. "Those that saved you gave you those."

"Yes, and winter has passed. I will see them."

Lexa pulls in a deep breath, tilts her chin up and squares her shoulders. "No."

"No?" The disbelief is thick in the air and bright in Costia's eyes.

"You cannot." Lexa swallows, barely keeping her hands from trembling as her heart quickens in her chest and her stomach rolls in fear. "Someone will take you again."

"You do not order me Leksa." Costia's eyes flash with annoyance and her teeth bare. "You may be the Commander but you do not tell me where I cannot go."

"Kostia, please." Lexa drops her shoulders, stepping close, eyes watering. "I cannot lose you."

"If you hold too tight then it is a cage Leksa." Costia stares at Lexa, remorseful as she shakes her head. "I will not be caged."

"Take Linkon with you." A plea, not an order, the Commander is gone and in her place is a girl terrified and near begging.

"I've made this trip alone before."

Lexa shakes her head, dropping to her knees and gripping at Costia's hand. "Please."

"No." Costia shakes her head, using the hand in Lexa's to pull her up. Lexa stands on trembling legs and Costia's heart breaks. "I will be back in a half cycle. Three days to get there and three days to come back."

"And eight days there?"

"They saved me, I must see how they are doing."

"Invite them here." Desperate and near demanding, Lexa's fear is thick and palatable in the air.

Costia remembers the wariness of her saviors, the way there had been no adult, the wary way they moved and watched her. They were hurt by authority before and they would not take well to an order to come here, nor would they leave the safety of their home. "They will not come."

"I am the Commander, I can get them here."

"Leksa." Costia presses fingers into her cheeks. "Your fear is ruling my love, think clearly. I will be fine. Trust me."

Lexa drops her forehead to Costia's, seeking her warmth like she will never feel it again. Her shoulder's drop in defeat and she concedes. "I cannot lose you."

"You won't." Costia closes her eyes and wraps her arms around Lexa, tight and with a vow on her mind. She won't leave Lexa, not in this life or any other.

* * *

* * *

* * *

* * *

 

When she finds the camp later, long after throwing Ryder off her trail, the fence is as tall as ever, one part of it completely new, fresh sapling painstakingly put up and mended to the older fence. "Grounder!" The shout rings out and someone stares at her from atop the fence, she pulls down her hood, grinning. The boy's face splits into a wide relieved grin. "Its our friend!" The others on the posts murmur in consent and relief as well, waving eagerly at her before looking back out into the lands, rocks and trees mingling into one area. Sparsely populated by tall trees and cliff edges that could cut. The lands were harsh but most of Blue Cliff was.

The gates open easily and she walks through. There are three more names on the metal building, gleaming in the sunlight. The guard, Derek, catches her looking. "They didn't make it past winter. Dakota got pneumonia, Clarke tried everything but he died." The boy shrugs, a chatter of words Costia can barely make out with Lincoln slow teachings of gonaslang. "He was our best guard." Costia remembers a pale boy with red hair and bright green eyes. One of the oldest in the camp. "Declan fell off the rocks." He motions to a section of the rock face behind the ship, near vertical in their incline and sharp jagged edges. "He was always climbing things." Her mind flashes to a boy, barely eight summers with a gap in his teeth and eyes darker than the night, skin a shade lighter than Indra's and hair that curled ruefully. Derek's face darkens. "Iris died when the wall went down. The wolves were hungry and they chewed through the weakest section. She was warning everyone, screaming and whistling when they got through. She took three of them with her before she died." And Costia remembers a girl, barely fifteen, ruddy skinned, hair as dark as the murky depths of Flokru ocean and eyes as bright as the forest in the spring. Quiet yet strong. Derek huffs, frowning. "You probably don't know what I'm saying do you."

Costia shrugs but speaks quietly. "Dakouta. Deklen. Eyris." She looks down sadly and points to the drop ship then to the burning pyre outside their fences.

Derek sighs lowly, face twisted in grief. "Yeah." He is broader than when she last saw him, growing with the food and training they have. He looks better than when she first stumbled upon them. Than the thin children that came from the stars and fought to live.

There are shouts and he grins shoving her towards the younger children, tilting his head in goodbye before he trots back to his post. The younger kids swarm around her, smiling. Bellamy looks up from his disrupted lesson, scowling before he smiles, a bare hint of it on his tan face. He looks better, less desperate than when she left. The children chatter away at her, slowly the others come out of their tents and work area. Finn grins at her, waving excitedly, pressing fingers into her shoulder with a wide grin. They are as kind as before, all grins and acceptance. Raven smirks from the edge of the metal building, one two feet this time instead of crutches. There's metal from the ship strapped to her leg and she looks free, like a bird in flight.

Murphy comes from the drop-ship, dodging around Raven, new scars on his face but his grin is easier than she'd ever seen it in that half cycle here. "You brought my coat back." His eyes are bright, she moves to take it off and he ducks his head, shuffling his feet. "Keep it." He jerks at Miller's arm, the other hunter waving at her before they catch up to Monty and Finn, moving to the gates. Octavia yells at her excitedly, her face is more angular than before and her arms are strong under the coat. She had grown a few fingers taller in the three months. The girl taps her sword into the one on Costia's hip before rushing after the boys. Small Monroe taking off after her, braid flopping in the wind as she grabs her spear. Smaller than any her age still but just as brave as any warrior Costia had met.

Fox is still shy but no longer too thin. Her elbows aren't as bony and her cheeks now full of life as she and Harper stop throwing a ball back and forth, grinning at Costia in surprise and happiness. Dax grunts at her before he amble to the smoke house. Myles follows after him, crutching his way easily, thumping Costia's boot with the metal crutch before he speeds past her, Dax rolls his eyes, walking faster but grinning where he used to wear a glare. Pascal sticks near Trina, scowling with a black eye of someone who had lost a fight. Trina smiles and ducks her chin as Costia meets her gaze.

Finally the last of them come out of their stations. Wells is speaking with Raven, gesturing with his hands. They both grin at her and Clarke looks up from writing in a thick book, she grins at her as well. There are purple bruises from lack of sleep under her eyes, the other generals look the same. Stressed and tired but they all greet her with smiles despite not knowing her name. "Ai laik Kostia." They stare at her for a second. "Kostia." Her fingers press into her chest and her lips quirk into a grin. 

Clarke grins, holding out her hand. Costia takes it, grabbing her forearm. Clarke grips her forearms back with an awkward air of never having done so before, it makes Costia's grin widen. "Ai like Clarke."

Costia shakes her head, mirth bright in her eyes. "Ai laik Klark."

Clarke furrows her brow, speaking slower. "Ai laik Clarke."

Costia shakes her head, slowly forming the name, thick on her tongue in her own language. "Klark."

Clarke laughs before murmuring confidently. "Klark."

Costia grins, nodding. "Sha." The other kids shove themselves forward, speaking over one another. Attempting saying their name in her own language. They are excited, they are all missing their bracelets as well. She holds up her hands. "Chil au." The kids, now only nine of them, silence. She grins as the older kids roll their eyes, obviously not used to the goufa listening that quickly. She bends down, level with them and speaks to the first young one in front of her.

* * *

 

Costia moves around the camp, freer than when she was first here. It looks better, the fence stronger than it once was. There are new sleeping quarters set up as well, some are dug into the ground, with rocks making a low wall above it. Some are made from a cobble of broken rocks, mud and small sticks. There are coats that hang out to dry in the sun, wolf fur thick on the inside. The smell of cooking meat hangs in the air and there's a new water basin in camp, it's made from logs and the red and white cloth from the metal building, but there's a glossiness to it that speaks of water-proof treatment, most likely a mix of fat and something else to keep the water from leaking out. There's a sort of netting above it, covering it to keep things from falling in, the netting has much smaller holes than the Flokru use, more closly knotted together. 

Costia makes her way to the metal building, free to roam as everyone goes about their day. By mid-morning she'd be surrounded by the children again. She'd have dinner with Clarke and the others, but for now she moves around the ship, looking at the changes since she'd left them to fend for themselves that winter. The healer's part of the building it clean, cleaner than she remembers when she'd first woke up here. There's more supplies, more paste stored in the corner, cloth drying out and thread twisted and drying out. There's water in another room, stored in odd containers and some of them are ugly misshapen containers made from animal skins. She finds the food storage, dried meat and fruit still there, left over from their planning for winter, they'd planned well and survived.

There's a room where Costia recognizes Raven's work, more contraptions for her leg, a few crutches laying around and half finished swords and knifes, arrows cobbled from wood and metal, piping surrounding the room in a mess that must make sense to the girl. Hidden within the area and pieces of the girl's work are half finished animals from Finn, more sheets of the metal sitting and awaiting to be shaped. Animals that are completely finished and awaiting a person to be gifted to. She sits down and closes her eyes, relieved that they survived, that her leaving hadn't condemned them. She's relieved that her friends, her saviors will survive. She vows to help them if need but also to never give them up. They saved her and she will protect them. 

**Author's Note:**

> Anya/Clarke as well as hints of Costia/Lexa then full blown Costia/Lexa will happen later in the story, the hundred are little more than kids, barely 14 and 15 for some of them. They'll need to grow up before they can even think of relationships so be prepared for a little bit of world building and the hundred being a family then relationships. Thanks for reading! :)


End file.
